


Two Men, Same Name

by dettiot, Mel_Sanfo



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Neither universe is like Arrow the show, Similar but Different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 96,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7435607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_Sanfo/pseuds/Mel_Sanfo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen's path in life is set in stone.  Suffocating under the high expectations of his parents while running a company he’s barely interested in.  Still, he never fails to disappoint his parents, even when he’s on his best behavior. He’s supposed to settle down, marry well and follow in his father's footsteps, without stepping an inch out of place . . . until a red streak with yellow lightning changes his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: So this all started with melsanfo telling me that we should write a fic together. And we started brainstorming, and now, here we are. :-) Just reading the outline of what we have planned for this AU makes me giggle and wiggle like a three-year-old with a pillowcase full of Halloween candy and no parents around. Many thanks to acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, who read this and let us whomp her with the feels. She then gave us some great feedback, so thank you!
> 
> Other Author’s Note: In my defense… well, shit, I don’t really have an excuse for this. Like. At. All. Moving on, people! I think I’m covering both Authors’s when I say I hope you enjoy our twisty brain baby.

Friday, 5:00AM

Blue eyes peered up at the ceiling as the alarm went off, loud and shrill.  Without shifting his gaze, he lifted his hand to the machine and pushed the button to gain silence. It was such a rare occurrence, to have an actual minute or two to himself, that he allowed himself the moment to just feel.

The fabric of the sheets against his body was luxurious. Thread count so high it could make an Egyptian blush, the cotton bedding was cool against his skin. He felt the heaviness of his body, all muscle and sinew, strong from his religious workout regimens, sink a bit further into his cloud soft mattress.  His eyes stared at nothing while he attempted to keep his mind clear. It was becoming harder and harder to not have anything that was pressing, anything that demanded his attention in that exact moment.

His respite lasted all of two minutes before he noticed the screen of his cell phone flashing. At 5:02 in the morning no one should be trying to reach him--most normal people were still asleep--but those he surrounded himself with were not normal. Picking up the device he glanced at the message from his trainer. He’d be on time, it said.

Getting out of bed, Oliver let the sheets roll off of his naked body and pool wherever they landed. He tried not to give them a second thought. His maid service, the trio of young women he paid to keep his apartment in perfect order, would take care of them. He had more important things to do than make up his own bed, although deep down he wished he could take the time to do something as menial as that.

The water from the sink was on the cool side, its chill helping him wake up fully. After relieving himself and brushing his teeth, he patted his face dry and ran a hand over his stubble. Both his parents hated that he let his facial hair grow in such a fashion. Neither clean cut nor a full beard, an in-between state that infuriated them with its ‘sloppiness’. Oliver liked it just for that.  Never mind that it separated him from the baby faced idiot he’d been, once upon a time. In all reality, his stubble was the only allowance he gave himself. The lone spark of rebellion in his perfect veneer. He flashed the mirror his patented Oliver Queen smile, the controlled picture-perfect tug of lips, and pushed off the marble. 

His workout clothes were non-descriptive at best, as was the to-go container that kept his green juice perfectly chilled. Climbing into his car, a silver Bentley, he auto-piloted his way to the gym, making sure to keep to all traffic laws while taking healthy swigs from his drink.

Starling City was still asleep for the most part, and not for the first time on his way to work out, he wished he was one of those lucky enough to still be in bed.

His train of thought moved to Thea. She was probably asleep in her tiny little apartment, in the bohemian part of Starling. Far closer to the Glades than he would’ve preferred, but she positively loved it.  And the fact that she was happy was the silver lining he clung to. At least she was as free-spirited as in her younger days, when he had nicknamed her Speedy.

She had been invading his thoughts over the last few weeks, especially in the morning. Ever since he’d seen her last and she had been raving about a poet friend of hers.  Someone who had worked hard to get published.  When describing her friend, Thea had been so full of life and happiness. He missed having her around.

Thea, in her usual exuberance, had been so excited and proud that she'd taken out the little book of poetry to show it off. To him it’d looked more like a booklet than an actual book.  And the simple brown paperback, with its white letters spelling out the title, left a lot to be desired creativity-wise in his opinion. 

But it was what was inside that made the little bland-looking book a threat, or so his sister had said.  When he had told Thea how lackluster the book looked, she had opened the damned thing,  flipping the pages lazily while explaining to him that books were for more than just making yourself look like an intellectual.  

He had played off his mild curiosity as best he could, masking it as disinterest with a dash of Queen heir superiority. When he had  handed his sister a twenty-dollar bill and told her to get him one, it was all for helping her friend unload a more-than-likely unwanted copy. He would put it on his coffee table, he had told her. It would make him seem more sensitive to whichever woman he entertained on any given night, he had said. Even though the only women he had entertained lately were wives, accompanied by their investing husbands.  And those business meetings rarely happened at his home.

Thea, as luck would have it, had another copy that she had already had every intention to sell him, since “You can afford it, Ollie.”  And she was more than happy to refuse to give him change, keeping the twenty-dollar bill and letting him know that it was going to a ‘worthy cause’. 

“Feed an up-and-coming writer and all that. It’s not gonna kill you. Besides, Ollie, you need a bit more pizzazz in your life. Take a chance on some undiscovered talent. Maybe a new hobby.  _ Something _ . Add some color to your life, big brother, or else before you know it, you’re gonna become just like mom and dad.”

He remembered he had snorted at the idea. Him? Be like their dad? Shaking his head once more at the idea, Oliver found his reserved parking spot by the entrance of the gym and exited the car.  Activating the alarm with his keychain fob while taking yet another pull of the earthy tasting green drink, he walked through the early-morning twilight into the gym.

Time to get to work.  

Friday, 5:30AM 

The thudding of his feet on the belt of the treadmill was the only sound that registered in his mind. The blood pumping in his ears and his breaths puffing out of his mouth were nothing but background noise that he easily discarded as unimportant. No. The steps were what mattered. The one-two of his long stride carrying him, in place, in the controlled environment, while he ticked off items on his to-do list for the day.

Start with the workout. Always start with the workout. Treadmill first, just a few miles to warm up and get the blood pumping. His trainer would arrive in half an hour. Weights would be next. It was leg day but that didn’t mean his session would avoid the other parts of his body. He was in good shape, enough that he could combine leg day with running and he wouldn’t be in too much pain. 

After all, a Queen never winced, never moaned, never showed pain. 

Friday, 8:00AM

The sweat rolled down his brow to drip from the tips of his hair, before they fell and formed wet spots underneath him.  Oh-so-slowly, Oliver Queen lowered himself, his hands pressed hard against the mats.  Then, muscles screaming, he pushed himself up in another handstand push-up, maintaining the same perfect form and slow, controlled pace.

“That’s it, Ollie--c’mon, boy, two more.”  

“Ol-ver,” he gritted out as he lowered himself again.  

He wasn’t Ollie anymore.  Hadn’t been for three years.  But people kept using the nickname, and every time it happened, it was like nails on a chalkboard.  It made him want to live down to the expectations even as he was trying to surpass them.  

“One more, Oliver,” Eddie, his trainer, said, sounding chastised.  

And even though a workout was normally a small island of peace in a raging storm, it wasn’t anymore.  Not after being called Ollie.  

So abandoning slowness, he did his best jackhammer impression for the last push-up, then dropped his feet to the ground and pushed himself upright.  His head swam slightly as his body reoriented itself, but he ignored it.  

“Done for today?” he asked Eddie, picking up the bottle of green juice he had been sipping throughout his workout.  It tasted like grass, but it was the healthy choice.

Eddie nodded.  “You worked yourself pretty hard today--do you have time for a session in the sauna?”

Shaking his head, Oliver grabbed a rough towel and rubbed it over his face, wiping away the sweat.  “No.  I have a long day today.”

“You say that after every session,” Eddie commented.  “Make sure to stretch, then.”  

With a last sip of his green juice to finish off the bottle, Oliver nodded.  “Of course.”  

Not that he would stretch.  Because he needed to shower before getting to the office as soon as possible.  It was a busy day at Queen Consolidated, and no one was busier than its CEO.  

Oliver draped the towel over one shoulder and walked into the luxurious locker room, as befitted the most expensive gym in Starling City.  Opening his locker, he checked his phone, noting the flood of texts he had received, but only bothering to read the ones from Tommy and Thea.  

Tommy was excited about seeing him at the benefit tonight and said that Laurel would be there, too.  Thea wanted to have lunch with him this week and wouldn’t take no for an answer.   _ Or else im gonna kidnap you & make u play hooky & then what wld m&d say? _ her text asked.

That wasn’t a fun thought: how his parents would react to Oliver choosing to take an afternoon off.  An afternoon that he spent doing what he wanted to do, instead of networking on the golf course or attending the elementary school play in which some business partner’s eight-year-old was appearing. 

When was the last time he had even had an afternoon off?

For a minute he didn’t have, Oliver stood in front of his locker, trying to come up with an answer.  But he couldn’t.  And when he realized that fact, and that he had just wasted a minute, Oliver shook his head.  He could practically hear his mother’s sigh, could see his father’s eye roll, like they were there in front of him.  And that made him want to cringe.  

But no one in the locker room was going to see Oliver Queen actually expressing how he felt.  No, they would have just seen a fit, handsome, successful man, going through his phone after a workout.  And that was the image he had to present.  

Carefully setting his phone back on the shelf in his locker, Oliver gathered his toiletries and headed towards the showers.      

Friday, 9:00AM

The moment he stepped off the elevator on the thirty-eighth floor of the Queen Consolidated building, it began.  This floor, the home for the company’s executives, was all marble and glass.  It was supposed to look clean and open, like there was nothing to hide.  And he supposed that was true, but Oliver never felt that way when he walked onto this floor.

He felt like a fish in an aquarium.   

“Good morning, Mr. Queen,” chirped Katy, his assistant.  She handed him a large cup of coffee which he took, and Oliver once again found himself hoping she had remembered no cream.  He took a sip and held back his grimace at the milky flavor.  

“Good morning, Katy,” he said, walking towards his office, modifying his pace to suit Katy as she trotted beside him.

“Today you have meetings with the head of Applied Sciences, the CFO, and the IT VP before lunch,” Katy rattled off as she consulted the portfolio in her hands.  “You’re meeting Ray Palmer and Harrison Wells for lunch to discuss the High Tech Corridor project.  I booked the private room at Table Salt.  After lunch, HR is presenting a list of employee-suggested perks for addition to QC’s benefits package.  Then you have a conference call with the mayor and the governor about the new Applied Sciences facility and the tax breaks.  Mr. Steele will be sitting in on that call, too.”

Even after a year of running Queen Consolidated, his parents still didn’t think he was capable of handling a simple phone call.  No, they had to make sure Walter Steele, the chief financial officer, was involved.  Oliver fought the urge to sigh and instead asked, “Is my tuxedo ready for the benefit tonight?”

“It’s being messengered over by three PM,” Katy replied.  As he sat down behind his desk, undoing the button on his gray suit jacket, she edged aside the copies of Starling City’s three major newspapers and placed a stack of phone messages in front of him.  His desk, with a glass top in an L-shape, was militarily neat.  His laptop computer was set up on the short leg, while the long leg, where he sat now, was empty except for his phone messages, the newspapers, and the one permanent fixture: a frame with a photo of his family.    

“Ms. Bertinelli has confirmed she’ll meet you there.  Mrs. Queen called twice this morning already, asking that you get in touch with her.  Mr. Queen phoned as well, inquiring about the stories in today’s papers about QC’s stock prices and expressing concern.”  

Katy’s voice sounded worried and embarrassed, so his father had probably chewed her out while running down his only son.  Oliver gave his assistant a tight smile.  “Thank you, Katy.  Glad it’s Friday?”  

“Yes,” she said, her smile relaxing a little and looking more like the normal version of that expression.  “Thank you, again, for letting me take next week off.  I know it’s a big disruption, and--”

“Your sister is getting married and you’re the maid of honor,” Oliver said, setting aside his coffee to start flipping through the phone messages.  “Of course you need the week off.”  

She shifted on her feet.  “Still, I’m very grateful, Mr. Queen.  I’ve made sure you’ve got the best temp in the whole city to assist you next week--I’ll be going over everything with her later today so she’ll be up to speed on Monday.  And I don’t suppose you want anything from Hawaii?”  

Oliver shot Katy a quick smile.  “Thank you, Katy.”  

Nodding quickly, Katy turned on her heel and hurried out to her desk.  Oliver kept going through his messages and glanced over the newspapers, making note of the articles that must have gotten his father so upset.  But that could wait, since everyone at QC knew who the true boss was.   

With the barest tightening of his jaw, Oliver picked up his phone and dialed his mother’s extension.      

“Moira Queen.”  

“Are you henpecking my assistant again, Mother?  You know how I feel about that,” Oliver said, keeping his voice bland.  

There was a tiny huff, then his mother said, “It’s not ‘henpecking’ to comment that when a call comes from the president of the board of trustees, the phone shouldn’t have to ring six times.  And the assistant to the CEO shouldn’t answer the phone by asking if the bachelorette party should be at a spa or a strip club.”  

Wincing a little, both in sympathy with Katy and from discomfort at his mother’s words, Oliver did his best to sound firm.  “Katy is an excellent assistant.”  

“If you say so,” Moira said, sounding anything but convinced.  “Oliver, have you reviewed the materials on the High Tech Corridor?  Harrison Wells is fully in favor of it, as you know, but Ray Palmer has been hesitating.”  

“Because he wants to partner with Wayne Enterprises,” Oliver said, leaning back in his chair.  “But Wayne isn’t interested, according to Lucius Fox.  I had drinks with him last night.”  

“You had drinks with Lucius Fox?”  The shock was evident in his mother’s voice.  “How did you meet him?  And how did you find out Wayne Enterprises doesn’t want to partner with Palmer Tech?”

Oliver swallowed.  He looked around his office, the glass exterior walls letting him see a panoramic view of Starling City.  On the interior walls were photos of him representing the company at benefits and galas, ball games and carnivals.  There were framed magazine covers and newspaper front pages, highlighting his accomplishments as CEO of Queen Consolidated.  

Yet he always got the feeling that none of it would ever be enough for his parents.    

“The important point is that Wayne Enterprises isn’t interested in any of Ray Palmer’s proposals,” Oliver said slowly.  “So I’ll be playing up the advantages of the High Tech Corridor with Palmer.  He’d be a fool to pass this up.”  

“Don’t push too hard.  We both remember what happened with the Unidac Industries deal,” Moira chided.  

Rubbing the thumb of his left hand against his forefinger, Oliver promised, “I remember and I’ll be careful.”

“Unidac pulling out of merger talks profoundly affected QC, Oliver--we can’t suffer another defeat like that so soon.  The High Tech Corridor has to go through for this company’s sake, for the sake of our employees, for--”

“I know all this, Mother,” Oliver finally snapped.  “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the head of Applied Sciences now.  I will see you tonight at the benefit.”  

Only Moira Queen could be slapped down like that yet remain utterly composed.  “Very well, Oliver.  I finally convinced your sister to attend tonight as well--I know that will brighten your spirits.”  

Like always, the thought of his sister made Oliver relax and smile.  “It does.  I’m glad to hear it.”  

“She’s bringing her checkbook as well, so the Starling City Cancer Fund will also be glad to hear she’s attending,” Moira said.  “Goodbye, Oliver.”  

“Goodbye,” he said, hanging up the phone.  Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was five minutes past the start of his meeting with the head of Applied Sciences.  And he hated being late.  

Pressing the button on his telephone, he buzzed Katy on the intercom and asked her to show in Curtis Holt.  Out of habit, he picked up his coffee to sip it, remembering too late that it was filled with cream and now barely lukewarm.  He choked it down and then stood to greet the head of Applied Sciences, who topped Oliver’s six foot, one inch frame by several inches.  

“Curtis, good to see you.  How are things in the world of Applied Sciences?” he asked, gesturing for Curtis to take a seat.  

And so, his day truly began.  It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, he had been up for five hours already, and he would have given anything if he could have worked on something he truly cared about.  

Friday, 8:00PM

Smoothing down the front of his Armani tuxedo, the dark cashmere flawless and perfectly pressed, Oliver walked through the ballroom of the Starling Grand Hotel.  It was an elegant facility, gold satin drapes flanking the floor-to-ceiling windows and coordinating with the gleaming wooden floors.  Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, throwing soft light over the elite of Starling City.  Tonight’s black-tie benefit for the Starling City Cancer Fund had brought out the upper one percent, and the room was filled with people Oliver had known for his entire life.  

People that looked at him and still thought of him as Ollie Queen, colossal screw-up.  Just like his parents did.  

Lifting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, he took a small sip as he looked around the room.  His erstwhile date, Helena Bertinelli, was by the bar, charming Carter Bowen.  His best friend Tommy Merlyn was talking to his wife--and Oliver’s one-time girlfriend--Laurel Lance-Merlyn.  There was no sign of his mother or his sister, but his father had just stopped by Helena, leaning in towards her to kiss her cheek.  And, no doubt, asking where Oliver was.  

Rather than put it off any longer, Oliver crossed the room to join them.  “Of course my date would be the center of attention.”  He rested his hand on Helena’s back, looking at his father.  “Hi, Dad.”  

“Oliver,” Robert Queen said, eyeing him over the rim of his glass.  He took a sip of his Scotch, then looked at Helena.  “I apologize for tearing him away just when you’ve gotten him back, Helena--”

“No fear--I’d be happy to entertain Helena,” Carter chimed in his smarmy fashion.

Given that Carter had been chasing Helena for years without catching her, Oliver knew he was sincere.  And it wasn’t like Oliver cared--there was no spark between himself and Helena.  They occasionally dated only for the benefit of the Wall Street Journal; investors always became bullish on both Queen Consolidated and Bertinelli Industries when Oliver and Helena were seen together.

“Thank you,” Oliver said, not meaning it at all, before following his father into a corner of the room.  “Yes, Dad,” he said once they were out of earshot.

Robert Queen, trim and virile even at the age of sixty, eyed him again.  Oliver could feel his father’s eyes run from his slicked-back hair down to the tips of his shiny shoes.  Robert’s gaze was heavy and weighing, and Oliver braced himself for how he would be found wanting tonight.  

“With all the money we have, a damn razor wasn’t in your budget?” 

“I was going to include the cost of the razor in my check tonight,” Oliver said, taking a sip of his champagne.   

His father shook his head.  “Some day, you’ll learn not to be so glib.”  

Oliver merely shrugged his shoulders.  “What did you want to talk about, Dad?”

“You and your lack of focus.  If you’re not careful,” Robert said, pointing a finger at Oliver, “you’re going to lose Helena, just like you lost Laurel.  You won’t be so lucky to find another suitable girl to settle down with, if everyone sees how you let both Helena and Laurel slip through your fingers.  So get your head on straight and propose to the girl.  Soon, Oliver.”  

Nothing his father said would have surprised him.  It wasn’t anything he hadn’t said before.  But it still made him feel like he couldn’t catch his breath.  Whether it was from the reminder that he had lost Laurel to his best friend or his father basically telling him to marry a woman he could barely spend time with, Oliver felt his mind go blank, like he had been trying to do this morning when he was staring at the ceiling.

When he didn’t reply, Robert let out a huff and turned on his heel, walking away from Oliver.  Leaving him reeling, wondering what was wrong with him.  Why his mind had suddenly emptied out.

“Okay there, big brother?”  

The impish voice of his baby sister snapped him out of the blankness, thank God.  Let him take a breath of air, let him recover.  

“Yeah--yes,” he said, his eyes focusing on Thea.  As he expected, his sister was dressed to the nines, wearing a sleek gown in purple.  But unlike the other former debutantes in the room, Thea had accessorized her dress not with jewels, but several long, beaded necklaces and a tiny top hat, perched on top of her messy bun.  

“You look beautiful, Speedy,” he said, kissing her cheek.  

“Thanks.  Mom said I looked like a circus performer,” Thea said, tapping her hat and grinning at him.  “Which was just the look I was going for.”  

The knot in his chest loosened and he smiled at her.  “Well, good, then.”  

Thea looked at him closely, and her grin faded a little.  “You look awful, Ollie.”

Only his sister could be so blunt with him--and call him by his nickname without him minding.  Because he knew it was coming from a place of caring.  “I’m fine, Thea,” he reassured her.  

“No, you’re not,” she argued, shaking her head.  “What did I tell you?  You have to get some color in your life, or you’re going to end up like Mom and Dad.”

Looking down at his feet, Oliver tried to come up with the words that would convince Thea that he was all right.  It had been weeks since she had started this whole crusade to give his life ‘pizzazz’, whatever that meant.  But he didn’t need pizzazz.  

Her hand rested softly on his arm.  “Ollie, what did Dad say to you?”  

He shrugged his shoulders again.  “The same thing he’s been saying every time he sees me lately.  That I should marry Helena.  That it’s all my fault I lost Laurel, and I shouldn’t take the risk of losing Helena.”  

With the roll of her eyes, Thea looked all of her nineteen years.  But her words were much older.  “It’s not your fault what happened with Laurel.  She was the one who got drunk and married Tommy in Reno.”  

“Yeah, well, if things had been so great with us, she still wouldn’t have gotten married to my best friend in a drunken ceremony--and then decided to give it a try,” Oliver said.  

She sighed softly.  “I know what happened with Laurel sucked.  But that doesn’t mean you should get married to Helena just because it’d make good business sense.  Otherwise, you’d be no different from Mom and Dad.”  

From across the room, someone waved to Oliver.  It was his mother.  He looked at Thea and mustered up his best Oliver Queen smile.  “Thank you for worrying about me, Thea.  But everything’s going to work out, I promise.  Enjoy the rest of the party.”  

With another kiss to her cheek, Oliver made himself leave his sister’s side, to find out how he had disappointed his mother. 

Saturday, 12:00AM

He barely remembered the drive on his way to his penthouse. As per usual, though everything looked perfect on the outside, the night had been a disaster. Aside from giving a hefty amount as a donation to a worthy cause and spending some time with Thea--although not enough time--before he was forced to work the room and ‘network’, it had been nothing but a carbon copy of any other event. His father was disappointed. His mother even more so. Thea was, as usual, supportive and way too insightful for his liking. He hadn’t even managed to spend time with Tommy: he had only been able to acknowledge his friend’s presence from the other side of the room. His time was spent schmoozing investors while they were a bit too far gone in their drinks, letting their wives flirt with the man they all thought was just a playboy.  All while his parents made sure he only had his one allotted drink.

He was just so... tired.

Tonight when he got home, he had forgone his usual ritual of taking off his tux first and then eating whatever his personal chef had prepared and left for him in the fridge. Sure, the gala had plenty of appropriate food and alcohol was flowing freely, but none of that stuff was in his regime. But instead of following his routine, he sat down on his barely-used couch.  And there on the coffee table was the book of poetry his sister had sold him weeks before.  

“Add some color to your life, Ollie.”

“You need some pizzaz…”

“Find something new…”

When he had first considered Thea’s words, he hadn’t really gotten very far in his reflections.  QC was the priority after all.  Taking the time to find something he would enjoy doing, which would fit into his tight schedule, sounded like an impossible mission. He needed something out of the box, something that would take him out of his comfort zone. And there was nothing further from his usual train of thought than poetry. He couldn’t remember ever picking up a book before that was like the one he was turning over in his hands right now.

Letting out a sigh, he flipped through the pages, finding the same poem Thea had recommended to him on the day she had given him the book. He read it over once and felt his heart stutter, then he read it over again and again. It was an almost visceral reaction. A pang deep in his soul. He should have known that Thea wasn’t buying his whole “I’m fine” facade and in her beyond her years wisdom, she had directed him to the one poem in the whole book that cracked the wall around his soul. 

The sense of longing in the words was so similar to what he felt--the sense of a guilty secret he never told anyone about--that he memorized the words before settling his new acquisition in one of his bookcases, hidden behind several of the boring business tomes he had used during his tenure in college. 

God forbid his parents decided to grace his home with their presence and found something as frivolous as a poetry book out in the open.

Making his way to his room, an hour later than he would have usually prepared for bed, he stripped off his clothes.  Thea’s words were running in a loop in his head as he picked up the discarded items on the floor and entered his walk-in closet. Standing naked as the day he was born in the middle of the room, he looked at the rows in front of him and frowned.

Gray. All of it was gray. The tux he was now crumpling in his tightening grip was the exception, but everything else in his closet, from the shirts, the tie rack, even the socks he’d peeled off today at his office while changing clothes for the gala, were gray. All variations of the offending color surrounded him, from the lightest shade of it to the darkest. Charcoal.  Steel. Slate. Gunmetal. 

Gray. Gray… Gray.

Now that he thought about it, the only items that had  **some** kind of color were the ridiculous outfits he had to wear to go golfing, and only because it was expected--and those clothes made him shudder. 

Dropping the different items that made up his perfectly tailored tux on the floor of his closet, he stepped out and took note of his room, for the first time in what seemed forever. He realized the same thing could be said regarding his bedroom, except it was all done in blue. There were some accents of color here and there, mostly Thea’s doing--there was a bright pink picture frame that held a picture of them encased in glitter letters spelling ‘best sister ever’--or the decorator, who had added some white in small doses, but the rest was monochromatic. 

Listless. 

Lifeless.

_ ‘Another day. Another struggle. Let us dream about tomorrow. Hope that it is merciful upon us. And lets us let go. Of our pain. And of our sorrows…’ _

He turned back the clock in his mind and pictured his days. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday… They all looked the same. Much like his closet being full of grey or his room full of blue, or his spacious living space with its floor to ceiling windows and clean white and silver fixtures and furniture.

Predictable. Safe. Colorless. All of it.

Saturday, 9:00AM

The buzzing of his cell phone snapped Oliver out of a deep sleep.  He stared blearily at the clock, then sat up in shock.

Nine AM?  He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept this late!  He scrambled, pushing at the sheets, before remembering it was Saturday.  He had already missed his workout, so he might as well stay in bed.  

But then his ringing phone sunk in, and Oliver resisted the urge to sigh.  He scooped it up from his nightstand and answered it.

“Mr. Queen?  This is Anna, Mr. Palmer’s assistant.  He’s interested in meeting with you to discuss the High Tech Corridor project.  Would your office at Queen Consolidated, in an hour, work for you?”

Holding back another sigh, Oliver replied, “Yes, Anna, that would be fine.  Thank you.”  

“Of course, Mr. Queen.  Have a good day,” Anna chirped before hanging up the phone.  

Oliver let the phone drop onto the bed, then finally let loose his sigh.  It was so deep and heart-felt, it might have come from his toes.  

The last thing he wanted to do was go to the office.  Not after last night’s epiphany, the one that had kept him up most of the night pacing the floor, before he had retired to bed where he tossed and turned.  

But what could he do except go to the office?  Oliver didn’t know.  So he tossed back his luxurious cotton sheets and went to his closet, selecting one of his gray suits with a grimace.  

Properly dressed with a travel tumbler of coffee in his hand--this brew made without cream--Oliver left his penthouse and took his private elevator to the basement parking garage.  Climbing into his silver Bentley, he pulled out of the garage and drove towards Queen Consolidated.

On a Saturday morning, the downtown of Starling City was just as quiet as it was at five in the morning during the week.  It was easy for him to find a parking space on the street, instead of being forced to use the parking garage underneath the building.  When he stepped out of the car, he found himself breathing deeply.  The air smelled fresh and clean and pure.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had noticed what the air felt like as it entered his lungs.  It made him wonder what it would be like to lay on a blanket in the park.  Or go for a run outdoors.  Or have brunch at a little cafe, spending time with friends and relaxing--

Frowning, Oliver shook his head.  He needed to get inside and prepare for his meeting with Ray Palmer.  The other man was a genius and Oliver had to be on his toes, ready to answer any question.  Because if being grilled by the Palmer Tech founder and CEO meant that Ray Palmer would agree to participate in the High Tech Corridor project, Oliver had to make this sacrifice of giving up his Saturday.

But it felt like so much more right now.  

Oliver took a few steps from his car, walking across the tree-lined plaza in front of Queen Consolidated.  He had left his suit jacket unbuttoned, so he noticed when the steel gray material began fluttering in a sudden strong breeze.  He looked around, wondering what was going on.  

Suddenly, there was a bolt of lightning, despite the clear blue skies and bright sunshine.  A flash of red streaked across his vision, making Oliver blink.  And in the space of his blink, the streak of red became . . . a man?  A man in a red suit?

“Sorry about this, Oliver, but there’s no time to explain,” the man said, grasping Oliver’s arm.  

“What--what are you--” Oliver began, but he didn’t have a chance to finish asking the man what he was doing.  

Because in a heartbeat, the man had lifted Oliver up and . . . started to run.  Started to run so fast that the world around them became nothing but blurs of color, then nothing but brightness.  Oliver couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t escape.  He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped this would all be over soon--that he would wake up in his bed, realizing this was all some strange dream.  

But when he opened his eyes, he realized this wasn’t a dream.

End, Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you read this chapter, you might feel a bit confused by what’s happening--not unlike Oliver! Just please roll with the punches and then read the note at the end. :-)

 

Disorientation didn’t cover what was happening to him.

Awe was mixed with shock, which then mixed with disbelief when the world seemed to suddenly stop and he was once more back on his feet.

Not that he stayed that way for long.

Whatever had happened before, whatever had him hurtling through lights and colors--like a bad trip from his younger years, even though he had never touched the hard stuff when it came to drugs--left him with his stomach wanting to revolt. Bile was rising in his throat, to go with the spasms he remembered from his last binge as irresponsible Ollie.

There was a female shout of alarm from somewhere in the brightly lit room. He couldn’t get many details about where he was, since the room itself seemed to be spinning around him and he was blinded from all the lights. 

Then he was on the floor. 

Even though he was in excellent shape, the sudden assault knocked the wind out of him and made him grunt. It felt like a linebacker had blitzed him, an unsuspecting quarterback, and taken him down. Hard. In a moment of panic, he shouted and realized that was a bad idea.  The panic made his stomach even more rebellious, so he gritted his teeth and tried to roll away from his attacker.

It was only then that he realized he wasn’t getting hit or kicked. He wasn’t being attacked, not really.  It felt more like he was getting patted down--at least from what he could tell through the thick blanket that had been tossed over him, along with the heavy body that had taken him down.

“I’m never gonna get used to that shit.” A deep voice, right by his side, grumbled and then the part of the blanket that had covered Oliver’s face was lifted, letting him see his would-be attacker for the first time.

The man was the epitome of a no-nonsense guy. His eyes were sharp and dark, as was his skin, his hair shorn close to his skull.  His serious demeanor reminded Oliver of years past when he’d dealt with cops who had looked at him very much the same way as this man was. Although they’d never had as much regard for him as the man seemed to.

“People running faster than the speed of sound and wardrobe malfunctions based on that.”  He shook his head “I know you hate it when he does that to you, but there wasn’t a choice. At least we managed to put the fires out before you got a few more scars.” 

More scars? What the..? It must have been the expression of confusion, or horror, on his face that made the man frown even more.

“You okay, man?”

Oliver found himself shaking his head, which turned out to be a horrible idea. The movement set off his stomach and he had to peel himself off of the floor, his feet tangling in the blanket as he looked around frantically.  Spying a small trashcan, he  practically dove for it, hunching over and hugging the metal, emptying the very little contents of his stomach there.  He was heaving and retching for what felt like forever but couldn’t have been more than a few moments.

“You really put him through the wringer this time, Barry,” another male voice interjected, sounding amused. 

“Some people just don’t travel through time as well as others,” yet another male voice replied. Barry?

Who the hell was Barry anyways? And traveling through time? What sort of messed-up dream was this? Or maybe someone had abducted him and drugged him to make him more compliant? That would actually explain so much. Well, it was pretty obvious he’d been abducted. Just how much he'd been drugged remained to be seen...

“Oliver? Are you okay?”

Pulling back from the mess he’d made, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his now-ruined suit, he paused. Were those burn marks all over himself?!? 

His hands automatically felt the holes that were all over his clothes, the motion automatic. As if touching was the only way to make sure what he was seeing was truly real. Some of the burns were as tiny as ink blots from an errant uncapped pen, while others full-on scorch marks that couldn’t be disguised as anything else. Feeling his heartbeat pick up even further, he turned his attention towards the person who was calling him by name.

Only a few feet away, kneeling down demurely on the cold concrete floor, was a blonde wearing glasses and a fuschia dress. Her eyes were blue and wide behind the two-toned frames that rested on her nose.  When blue met blue, he saw her suck in a breath.

“Do I know you?” he managed to groan out. “Do we know each other?”

“You- you don't know me? Like… at all?” she asked, her brows knitting together in consternation.

He shook his head again, feeling and quite probably looking miserable.

“Ooh, frack,” she muttered, getting up from the floor and taking a few steps back. “OoOooooh frack, frack frack! Barry!”

“I actually need to get going, Felicity. I gotta check on Cisco and Caitlin. Make sure that everything is still good at home...”  This Barry, the one who had brought him here, sounded like he really wanted to leave now.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Barry!” the blonde warned.  Felicity--her name was Felicity. 

Felicity? What kind of name was Felicity? Hippie parents or something? 

He rolled his body to a sitting position, with the trash can next to him while his stomach settled, taking the moment to look around the room.

Wherever he was, there was a lot of space, divided into different zones.  The room was dark around the edges, but there was bright light in the middle, washing down over him and making him squint.  With whatever was going on, he was having trouble seeing.  

There were some long metal tables, one filled with what looked like top-of-the-line computer equipment.  There were three glass cases with undressed mannequins, and another case with a mannequin wearing some kind of red leather getup.  He frowned as he looked at it, before he heard a voice he knew.

“Holy crap. I haven't seen that serial killer haircut on him in a LONG time.” 

“Thea?”  His voice was scratchy, from just having been sick, but he couldn’t hide the surprise in his tone.

“You got the wrong one!” Felicity was saying, poking the guy in the red suit on the chest with one of her forefingers. “Just how far back did you go?” the blonde was asking, in a panicked voice. “We agreed it should be Oliver from like two months ago. But nooooo…”

“This is bizarre,” his sister said as she approached him, handing over a bottle of water while wrinkling her nose at him. “You might wanna swish for a second or two.”

“Thea…” his voice held a slight warning. 

If this was what he thought it was, then his sister had made good in her promise--her threat--to kidnap him. And she had obviously gotten some of her friends to go along with the whole scheme. Maybe he wasn’t the one that was drugged, maybe THEY were and that’s why they were talking about time travel. Then again, that wouldn’t explain the lights and colors he’d seen. 

Okay. Maybe they were all drugged. He frowned and decided to have a stern talk with his sister about having druggie friends.  Still, he took the offered bottle all the same. He needed to get rid of the lingering aftertaste of vomit.

Removing the cap from the sealed bottle, he did what she suggested, rinsing out the foul taste in his mouth and spitting onto the already-used trash can, before pushing the metal container as far away from him as he could. 

“Come on, Ollie. Let's get you off the floor,” she said, offering her hand and helping him climb to his wobbly feet.

“Thea, what the hell is going on? Did you really kidnap me? I have a meeting with Ray Palmer, I can't skip it and play hooky with you and your friends today.”

“Yeah, that is  _ so _ not what's happening right now,” she snorted while shaking her head.

“What do you mean he's the wrong one? That's Oliver.” The man in the red suit waved his hand in Oliver’s general direction. “I even got him from right in front of QC. Literally, like right in front. On the steps.”

“And yet he's not the right one!” Felicity stated, also while motioning towards Oliver. “Would you just look at him!”

All of the sudden, everyone’s eyes were on him.  Oliver, having faced this type of scrutiny before, took it all in stride: rolling his shoulders back almost imperceptibly and making his spine as straight as possible.  Standing like the Queen heir that he had been groomed to be, even if his clothes were a bit on the scorched side. He also used the moment to take the group in, just like they were doing to him.

The man who he assumed had tackled him to the floor, in order to put out the fire, was now staring at him, arms the size of tree trunks crossed over his chest. He wore all black, from his combat boots all the way up to his T-shirt. He looked like a man who was ready for battle.

Next to him was a younger man, not a lot older than Thea by the looks of it. His expression was serious--almost too serious for his age--blue eyes rimmed with black makeup burning holes into him. To go along with his makeup, he was wearing what looked to Oliver like a Halloween costume: a leather jacket and pants in red that faded to black, with a red hood pulled back and resting over his shoulders. It looked similar to the one outfit that was on the mannequin.

“I don't see anything,” the young man said, shrugging.

“Seriously, Roy?”

“What? I don’t!” he defended himself.

The man in the head-to-toe red suit, with a lightning symbol on his chest, was tilting his head to the side this way and that, while looking at Oliver. He was taller than the other one wearing red; the woman named Felicity had called him Roy, it sounded like. Lighting man’s expression was puzzled but not in a sour way like Roy.  Instead it was almost like he found Oliver to be a very interesting bug.

“I don’t see it,” he said finally.

“The. HAIR,” Felicity practically growled, standing by the man wearing black and pointing once more in Oliver’s direction.

The three men seemed to come to attention, standing up straighter than they had been. Both Roy and the man whose name he didn’t know started nodding and Barry, the one with the lightning bolt on his chest, openly gaped.

“Oh… yeah,” he said sheepishly.

“Add the fact that he doesn’t know me. At. All.” Felicity explained, folding her arms over her chest and making the cut out on the fuschia dress she wore a bit more noticeable. 

“What about Diggle?” Thea asked, while standing beside Oliver. “Do you know him?” she ventured to ask, motioning to the man dressed in black.

“I don’t know anyone here, except for you, Speedy. You know I don’t know any of your friends,” Oliver said, balling his hands into fists out of his frustration.

“Ok...so maybe I grabbed the wrong Oliver Queen.”

“I AM Oliver Queen!” Oliver said, offended. 

Just what the hell were they talking about? Why did they all act like they knew him--and like he knew them?

“We know,” Thea offered, placatingly. The sentiment was echoed by Roy, Felicity and the man, Diggle.

“...I swear, I thought I had just gone back a few months. You know my time traveling skill is still a little bit on the rusty side,” Barry said, sounding confused and defensive.

“You definitely grabbed the wrong Oliver Queen,” Felicity said, shooting a look at Barry.  

Barry threw his hands up in the air.  “Okay, so I got the wrong Oliver Queen!  So what are you going to do now?”

“Are you saying he’s our problem now?” Roy asked, gesturing to Oliver.  “That’s not cool.”  

“I’ve got to get back to Central City!” Barry insisted.  “I did this as a favor to you guys.  It’s not my fault!”

Oliver disagreed.  This was all Barry’s fault.  And the fact that they were talking about him like he was a sweaty duffel bag that picked up at the gym by mistake was not helping matters.

“Let’s just take it easy, everyone,” the man who had tackled him--Diggle--gently suggested, but Oliver had lost any interest in gentle suggestions.  

“Would someone just tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked, too angry to care about his rolling stomach.  “I have a very important meeting that I’m definitely late for, and I don’t have time for any little jokes or strange mix-ups!”

Everyone seemed a bit taken aback by his outburst, which was somewhat gratifying.  They were finally listening to him.  

Thea stepped over to him and rested a hand on his arm.  “You’re right, Ollie--um, Oliver?  Oliver.  You got caught up in this mistake, so of course you want some answers.”   

His sister’s strange reaction to saying his name was confusing--but even more so was how she looked at the other woman.  Like Felicity had all the answers.

The blonde didn’t seem so sure about that, at least not from the way her eyes widened.  But as Oliver looked at her, he saw her square her shoulders.  

“Yes.  Answers.  Right,” she said, adjusting her glasses.  “Since . . . since you seem to not know us, other than Thea, which is understandable, I suppose introductions are in order.  This is Barry Allen,” she said, resting her hand on the shoulder of the man in the red suit with the lightning bolt.  “Over here we have John Diggle and Roy Harper,” she added, gesturing first to the massive black man and then the slighter, younger man in red and black.  

“And I’m Felicity Smoak.”  

Something about her name made Oliver look closely at her.  It was like she was trying to emphasize it, like she thought he should remember what her name was.  Which just confused him.

“Where am I?” Oliver asked, looking at Felicity.  “What’s going on here?  Time travel?  I don’t understand.”  

“Well . . . we don’t understand, either,” Felicity said, exchanging glances with Diggle.  “See, we asked Barry to do us a favor and find Oliver, from about two months ago, and bring him here.”  

Oliver’s forehead wrinkled.  “Oliver...from two months ago?  And how was Barry going to bring him here?”

“I’m the Flash,” Barry said with a proud yet sheepish smile.  

A smile that dropped rather comically when Oliver just stared at him.  “The Flash?  The Scarlet Speedster?  Fastest . . . man . . . alive?”  Barry looked around.  “You all know I’m the Flash, right?”

Everyone nodded, except Oliver.  

“Felicity,” Diggle said, his voice loaded with meaning.  

“I know, Digg,” she said, her eyes not leaving Oliver’s.  “Oliver, what year is it?”  

“2014,” he said, looking at all of them.  “You said you wanted Oliver from two months ago . . .”

Diggle and Felicity exchanged another look, but Thea, Roy and Barry seemed to be in the dark still.  

“It’s 2014 here, too,” Felicity said.  “Which would fit if you’re Oliver from two months ago, but Oliver from two months ago didn’t have long hair like yours.  You look more like an Oliver from four or five years ago--”

“But Ollie back then wouldn’t have been caught dead in a suit.  Or in front of QC,” Thea commented, before her eyes went very wide.  “Oh, crap.”  

Roy leaned over and whispered something to Thea, who whispered something back, making Roy’s eyebrows go up.  

“Right,” Felicity barreled on.  “So you’re an Oliver from the same year, but with a very different appearance, who doesn’t know anyone here except Thea.  Would you mind taking your shirt off?”  

Oliver blinked, while everyone gave Felicity varying degrees of the stink eye.  “Is this really the time, Felicity?” Roy asked.  

“Shut up, Roy,” Felicity said, taking a step closer to Oliver.  Her eyes were strangely compelling, he thought as she drew nearer to him.  

“If I’m right, seeing Oliver shirtless will be the last piece.”  She clasped her hands.  “I know we’re all strangers to you, Oliver, but . . . but I promise, if you just unbutton your shirt, I will know what’s going on.”  

For a long moment, Oliver just stared at this strange young woman.  She was certainly intelligent, and pretty in a librarian kind of way, but she didn’t fit with this group of people.  Actually, none of them seemed to fit together, and he didn’t understand what was going on.  

But for some strange reason, there was something about Felicity.  Something warm and engaging and trustworthy.  Even though he had no reason to believe her, it was like . . . he wanted to do what she asked of him.  

With cold fingers, he began unbuttoning his scorched dress shirt.  

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been shirtless in front of strangers before.  But there was something loaded and familiar about Felicity’s gaze--about every one of these people’s focus--as he shucked off his shirt and suit jacket.  

Felicity sucked in a deep breath.  “No scars.  No Bratva tattoo.  He’s not our Oliver.”  Her voice broke oh-so-slightly on his name, but she seemed to be trying to ignore that.  Her head turned to look at Barry.  “You must have run to another universe and taken  _ their _ Oliver.”  

“What?” Oliver whispered, his eyes flicking back and forth between Felicity and Barry.  “Another . . . another universe?”  

Barry stepped forward, pushing back the cowl of his costume to reveal a shock of brown hair and pale skin.  And he was just as young as Oliver thought he was--probably only a few years older than Thea.  

“I can run fast.  Really fast,” Barry said.  “So fast that I can . . . travel in time.  And also between universes.  See, there’s this thing called the Multiverse--”

“There’s a million billion other universes,” Felicity interrupted.  “Each one with their own Oliver Queen.  Barry, in trying to get an earlier version of Oliver, mistakenly jumped to another universe and found you.”  

“I’m really sorry,” Barry said earnestly, looking at Oliver.  “I have no way of knowing whether I’ve gone into the past or if I’ve gone to another universe.  And when I saw you in a suit, in front of Queen Consolidated . . . I thought I had gotten it right.”  

Diggle stepped forward.  “So can you just take him back?”  

Barry sighed and opened a pouch on his belt, pulling out an energy bar.  He ate it in three bites, then spoke.  “I wish I could, Digg, but I need at least a week to refuel and recharge.”

“That’s just great, with Slade running around and us needing Oliver--” Roy said, only for Thea to elbow him.   

“Not helping!” she hissed.  

“Why do you need Oliver?” Oliver asked, before frowning at how weird it was to talk about himself in the third person.  But he wasn’t, was he?  He was talking about a totally different Oliver Queen.  A part of him couldn’t believe he was actually considering the validity of multiple universes...

Diggle sighed.  “It’s a long story.  One that you don’t need to know.”  

“Or maybe he does.”  

Both Diggle and Oliver turned to look at Felicity when she spoke.  Oliver wasn’t sure he liked how she sounded.  She was acting like she had a crazy idea she was about to sell them.  

And Diggle didn’t seem too happy about this, either.  “Whatever you’re thinking, Felicity--”

“Digg, what choice do we have?” she asked, looking up at him.  “It’s so bad, we sent Barry to get an Oliver to help us!  Until we can make contact with Sara and get word that we need our Oliver back, we’re in big trouble.  Well, Barry brought us an Oliver.”  

“You’re talking about using an innocent civilian as bait!” Diggle snapped, before stopping and taking a deep breath.  “Felicity, I know things look bad now, but we can deal with Slade on our own.”  

That was the second reference to someone named Slade.  Someone that had everyone looking scared--because at any mention of his name, the other people in the room all tensed.  Oliver wondered what the hell was going on.  Who this Slade person was, where their Oliver was, and what was Felicity about to suggest.  

“That’s the thing, Digg--we can’t,” Felicity said, her voice sounding utterly broken.  

It made Oliver take a step towards her, made him want to wrap an arm around her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.  He shook his head at the foreign impulse and didn’t move.  But he did pay very close attention to what was said next. 

“Yeah,” Digg said heavily.  “But Felicity, this isn’t right.”  

“Nothing lately has been right,” she replied, pressing her lips together.  Then she looked at Oliver and put on a smile.  But her attempt failed utterly, because Oliver could see the sadness and worry in her eyes.  

“Oliver, can I talk to you?  Oh, um, you can put your shirt back on.”  

That made him realize he had been standing there shirtless, so Oliver quickly pulled on and buttoned his shirt, before he followed Felicity over to a corner of the room, his ruined suit jacket utterly forgotten behind.  

“I know this is all really overwhelming,” Felicity said, looking up at him.  She gave him another tentative smile.  “And I know you don’t know us.  Well, you know Thea, of course, although since she’s your alternate universe sister, maybe you don’t feel like you know her.  But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Oliver Queen loves his sister, no matter the universe, so . . . so I hope having her here will help you, since you’re stuck here at least for a week.  And I don’t know that anyone’s said it yet, but--but we’re really sorry to have done this to you.”  

“Oh . . . um, thank  you.  For apologizing,” he said, feeling a multitude of emotions.  Confusion, concern, worry . . . 

“Who is this Slade person?  What’s happening that you need your Oliver--and where is he?”  Oliver asked when Felicity didn’t say anything.

Felicity shifted on her feet.  “Well, Oliver is . . . on vacation, I guess.  With an old friend of his, Sara--Sara Lance, do you know her?”  

Oliver shook his head.  “I only know a Laurel Lance.”  

His words made Felicity’s face crumple for a split-second.  “Of course.  Of course there’s a Laurel in your universe, too,” she whispered.  Then she gave her head a quick shake.  “Sorry, never mind.  Oliver is with Sara, and they’re a bit . . . we can’t contact them.  We knew that was the case when he left, but we thought everything would be okay for a week or so while Oliver was incommunicado.  But he’s been gone for nearly a week, and things are bad here.”  

“Because of Slade?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded.  “Yeah.  Slade Wilson is . . . he’s . . . he’s basically your arch-enemy.”  

“What?” 

Slade Wilson?  Oliver had never heard of anyone with that name, let alone having anything to do with him that would make the man into his arch-enemy.  

“Your arch-nemesis, you know? A bad guy to the good guy? No? Yes? Well, not your arch-nemesis but the arch-nemesis of the man who is you but not you, the Oliver from our universe, not your universe because that one is you, obviously. Confusing I know, try looking at it from my side, having to say all of this to you when I know the other you knows all of this very well. Anyways, now that you’re the Oliver that is here and he’s the Oliver that’s not here, then that makes Slade your arch-nemesis, in a way. Since Oliver, my Oliver...I mean, our Oliver, the OTHER Oliver, the TEAM’S Oliver, is not here to deal with him, Slade him, not Oliver him, then that means it’s up to you. Sort of. God, that whole Oliver and Oliver thing is going to be very confusing. Not important, we’ll deal with that later.”

“I don’t know the whole story--I don’t know a sixteenth of the story,” Felicity said, the lights shining off her glasses and hiding her eyes from him.  “Because to know more, Oliver would actually have to talk and he’s kinda pathologically unable to do that, and I get it, you know?  Five years when nothing good happened, I get it.  But this isn’t the first time that Oliver’s past has come back to haunt him--to haunt us--and I’m not gonna lie, I’m getting a little tired of it.  And Slade Wilson is the worst example yet of Oliver’s past haunting him, and I just wish he’d realize that he could tell us anything and we’d understand.  Wow, this is really off the topic, so I will get back on topic in three, two, one.  Slade Wilson is gunning for Oliver, and for anyone he cares about.  And that includes Starling City.”  

“But . . . why?” Oliver asked after a moment, once he was sure Felicity had stopped talking.  “Why doesn't Oliver just go to the police and tell them about this Slade Wilson stalking him and let the cops handle it?”

Felicity gulped.  “I was worried you’d ask that . . . okay, so, you now know that Barry is the Flash, right?  He’s a superhero.”  She paused, moving a step closer to him, so he could see her eyes.  Could see the trust and belief and loyalty in them.  

“And so are you.  Oliver, I mean,” she quickly corrected.  “My Oliver, I mean.  No, not mine, our Oliver, the team’s--you know what, I’m not going through that again.  He’s called the Arrow.  He’s an archer--you wouldn’t believe how good he is.  He was . . . this is so weird, telling someone who looks exactly like Oliver his life story.”  Felicity gave her head a shake and continued.

“Seven years ago, Oliver Queen was shipwrecked on a deserted island.  He spent five years there, and when he was rescued, he returned here, to Starling City, to make things right.  To fix the wrongs his family had committed,” Felicity said, sounding like the narrator of a movie trailer.  “Only the island wasn’t so deserted--that’s where Slade comes in.  And no one can go toe-to-toe with him except Oliver, our Oliver.  That’s where we got the idea of having Barry get an Oliver from a few months ago.  Have Oliver come and help us out while Oliver, current Oliver, is gone, and wow, this is confusing, but that’s time travel for you.  Only Barry kinda screwed up by going into another universe instead and he got you. And while I noticed that you apparently work out--huh, I feel like I should backtrack and say not noticed but that’d just be too weird. Don’t make me go into that. As I was saying, even though it looks like you work out, maybe as much as Oliver does, there’s no way you could do what we need you to do.  But things are so bad that I have to believe this has all happened for a reason.  And believe me, I’m not normally a girl who believes in fate or anything like that.  Totally Team Free Will here, but . . . but we need help.  We need Oliver.  We need the Arrow.  We need...well, we need  _ you _ .”  

Oliver’s head was whirling.  Yes, Felicity was kind of cute, but . . . she was crazy.  Certifiable even.  He was no superhero!  In what universe was he a hero like she described?  Not even in this one, he bet, because she hadn’t given him a shred of proof about this ridiculous story.  Getting shipwrecked on an island?  Becoming some kind of Robin Hood archer?  He had no idea what was going on here, but he could tell when he was getting played.  And this Felicity Smoak might be smart and pretty, but what better qualifications did you need to be a con artist?

“No.  There’s no way,” he said, stepping back from her.  Ignoring how her face fell.  “You’re crazy.”  

“I’m not crazy,” Felicity protested, following him when he walked back into the middle of the room.

“Yeah, you are,” he shot back before turning to Barry.  “You’ve got to take me back now.”  

Barry stared at Oliver, his mouth hanging open enough for the half-chewed energy bar to be visible.  Then he closed his mouth, swallowed, and shrugged his shoulders.  “I’m sorry, Oliver, but there’s no way I can take you back.”  He held up a handful of energy bar wrappers.  “These are the only things keeping me awake right now.  I’m gonna need real food soon.”  

“We’ll get you some Big Belly soon, Barry,” Diggle said.  “Felicity, don’t tell me you asked him--”

“I’m no superhero!” Oliver shouted at the top of his lungs, watching as everyone jumped.

Then, to his annoyance, they all went back to ignoring him.  Starting with Felicity, who started talking quickly with Diggle.  

“I did.  Because we need him.  We need help, and until Oliver gets back, we’ll have to use every available resource.  Slade keeps outthinking us--so we have to fool him, make him think he’s outthinking us, when in reality we’re outthinking him.  How better than to get him off-balance, with someone who looks like Oliver but isn’t Oliver?”

Oliver watched as the team exchanged glances.  When no one said anything, Oliver rolled his eyes.  “You can’t possibly be listening to her, can you?”

Diggle looked thoughtful.  Then he ran his eyes over Oliver.  “It’s . . . it’s not the worst idea we’ve ever had.”  

“Hell, Oliver has worse ideas than that one before breakfast,” Roy offered.  “Do you know how to use a bow and arrow?”  

Oliver looked at Roy like he was crazy.  “No!  No, I don’t know how to use a bow and arrow.”  

“He’s in shape, at least,” Diggle pointed out.  “Roy, you and Thea could probably get him up to speed.”  

“How am I gonna look as good as your Katniss in a week?” Oliver asked in exasperation.

Blank stares was all he got, from everyone in the room, and Oliver sighed.  “You must not have  _ The Hunger Games _ here.”  

“Oh, we do--we’re just shocked at you knowing something about pop culture,” Thea said.  “Or maybe we’re more shocked at you making the reference instead of Felicity or Barry.”  

“Yeah . . . that’s just weird,” Barry said, looking freaked out.  

“Focus!” Felicity snapped.  “Roy, Thea, can you teach Oliver how to arch?”

Thea snorted.  “Oh, if Roy could learn,  _ anyone  _ can learn.”  

The younger man--who Oliver was pretty sure was also Thea’s boyfriend, but he was trying not to think about that for a multitude of reasons--looked like he wanted to object, but one look from Felicity had him closing his mouth and nodding in agreement with Thea.  

“Digg, you can teach Oliver how to fight.  I can gather enough information to help Oliver if he encounters Slade,” Felicity said, having the air of someone who knows a decision has been made.  

“No, no, no, no, no,” Oliver said, making eye contact with a different person on each no.  “I’m not doing this!  I don’t care what you do to me--I don’t care if I don’t eat and have to sit in the corner for the next week, but until Barry can take me back home, I’m not doing anything to help you.”

Everyone started doing that exchanging looks thing, and then Diggle stepped forward.  “I know this is a lot to handle right now--”

Oliver laughed in the man’s face.  “A lot to handle? A lot to-- That’s the best you can come up with?  This is so much more than any cliché can express. You’ve told me some crazy fairy tale and expect me to just fall in line with it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Felicity go over to the computers and sit down in front of them, her fingers flying over the keyboards.  He turned his head to watch her, feeling surprised that she was the one who belonged with the computers.  Then he realized that Diggle was talking.  

“It’s not a fairy tale.  I know it seems like one--I felt that way when Oliver told me what he was doing,” Diggle said, his voice slow and even.  “I know you have no reason to believe us--but we can show you some proof, and then maybe you can decide if you would be willing to help us.”  

Unconsciously, Oliver found himself looking at Thea.  She was and wasn’t his sister, if their story was to be believed.  But she felt like his sister.  She had the same air about her, that same feeling of being ready to go, ready to do.  The feeling that made him name her Speedy.

And right now, Thea was silently asking--no, she was pleading with him to listen to them.  To give them a chance.  

“Here,” Felicity said, pushing her chair back and away from the computers, leaving a clear path for Oliver.  “Take a look.”  Her voice was filled with emotions that Oliver couldn’t understand.  But her eyes were full of challenge when they connected with his.  

A challenge he had to take.  

Slowly, feeling everyone’s eyes on him, Oliver walked towards the computer table.  When he got close, Felicity reached over and tapped a key, and the screens were suddenly filled with video footage.  

Video footage of a man wearing a suit with a hood, not that different from the one Roy was wearing, not that different from the other red one on the mannequin, only the man on the screen’s costume was sleeveless and dark green.  Oliver watched as the man whirled, his movements like some kind of lethal dance as he fired arrows and threw punches and kicks.  

Watching the video, one part of their story seemed believable, at least.  This man, if this was the Arrow?  Yeah, Oliver could believe he had fought for his life for five years.  

But he wasn’t about to believe that man on the screen was him.  That wasn’t Oliver Queen.  

“Wait for it,” Felicity said, like she could read his mind.  

He wanted to glare at her, but then his attention was caught by what was onscreen.  One of the men being fought by the Arrow made a swipe at the hood on his costume.  It fell back, revealing the man under the hood.  

The Arrow turned to face the camera in order to fire an arrow at the man who had unmasked him, and Oliver felt his breath catch in his throat.  

It was him.  The same forehead, the same jaw, the same mole under his lower lip.  The hair was shorter, just like everyone had mentioned when he had first arrived.  But otherwise, it was like looking into a mirror.  

“Oh my God,” Oliver said, staring at the screen which had frozen on his image.  “It’s . . . it’s me.”

End, Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, we’ve made some changes to the show’s timeline: Barry is already the Flash, Thea is part of the team, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg, as you’ll see in the ensuing chapters. Clearly, the Barry who ran into an alternate universe to grab Oliver isn’t the same Barry as on the show. It’s two alternate universes, in other words, rather than an alternate universe and the same universe as Arrow the show. We hope you liked us mixing things up a little bit, and that you’re still with us on this ride!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see how the team feels about having a different Oliver around, shall we? We hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

As she pulled up the video footage, Felicity wondered if this was a good idea.  Not just showing this alternate Oliver actual proof of Oliver Queen being the Arrow--but if asking this strange not!Oliver to help them was what they should do.  If it was the right thing to do.  If it was something that Oliver would agree with.

Oh, she really needed to find a way to keep these two straight when she was talking about them.  Not that anyone could mistake the Oliver that Barry had dropped on their laps with her Oliver.  Not with that hair.  God, what was he  _ thinking _ ?

What was _she_ thinking?  There was no way Oliver would agree with telling someone his secret.  Look at how he had reacted when she had to tell Barry.  This was going to be way worse. Then again, the probability on the outcome ratio might be skewed, because she had told his secret to an Oliver from an alternate universe, where the truth of his secret identity could cause no harm.  Since from the looks of things, over there the Arrow didn’t exist.  

Oliver wasn’t here, she reminded herself.  That was why they were in this situation to begin with.  Because Oliver, despite all his great qualities, was a big dumb pine tree when it came to Laurel Lance.  Not that Felicity could blame him--her nickname of Gorgeous Laurel was one given without any kind of cattiness or irony.  Laurel was gorgeous: all long legs and thick, wavy hair, pouty lips and bright eyes.  The fact that she was an amazing lawyer was almost adding insult to injury.

Ever since she had moved to Ivy Town to be the county district attorney, though, Oliver had been a wreck.  When it came to Laurel, he had always been moody and hyperfocused.  She was his one true love, but his quest to right his father’s wrongs always seemed to get in the way.  But now that she wasn’t in Starling City anymore, and with Isabel Rochev breathing down his neck at Queen Consolidated . . . Oliver had needed a break.  And the team needed a break even more.  Thank God for Sara.

Felicity gave her head a shake.  This wasn’t important.  What was important was getting not!Oliver to help them.  And this Oliver wanted proof of what they were saying, so she would give him proof.  And hopefully, that would be enough.  It had to be enough, because otherwise, they were really screwed.  Really, really,  _ really  _ screwed, on a scale that went far beyond one to ten.  Like, on that scale, they would be at infinity if the Oliver with the serial killer hair didn’t go along with this.  

He had to help them.  They just needed to find a way to convince him.  Maybe he was the type to need a challenge?  To be told he couldn’t do something?  That seemed like the kind of strategy that would have worked on a younger Oliver. Not that this Oliver was younger, thank goodness; he was the same age as her Oliver.  But with the hair, and the yelling, he seemed younger.  More like her age.  

“Here,” she said, looking over her shoulder and immediately meeting Oliver’s eyes.  “Take a look.”  

Something flared in his eyes and Felicity barely resisted the urge to fist pump.  Yeah, he had picked up on the challenge she had thrown down.  Because she was awesome and she knew how to read people!  Take that, Oliver, you and all your “you’re just not very observant, Felicity” notions!

Slowly, the other Oliver approached her desk.  When he got close enough, Felicity started the videos and then pushed her chair back gently, letting him have the best view of all the screens.  

And while he watched the video of Oliver fighting, Felicity watched him.  

There was no denying that other than the hair, he seemed like Oliver’s twin.  Same eyes, some jawline, same lips.  There was even the same stubble.  It all added up to Oliver Queen, mega-hot billionaire.  

But Felicity had spent a lot of time looking at Oliver’s face.  Since as a mega-hot billionaire, his face was everywhere. In her day-to-day life in person, on magazine covers and in paparazzi photos, when he was wearing a business suit and when he was wearing his green suit.  And this wasn’t the same Oliver.  There were different lines around his eyes.  His shoulders were slightly hunched and rounded.  And he didn’t have Oliver’s nervous tic: he wasn’t rubbing his thumb against his fingers.  

Once she had asked him about that tic--in the early days, before she was fully aware of what an innocent question could stir up for him.  Oliver had told her it was an archer thing--something he did to keep his fingers loose.  That might be true, but given how he always seemed to do it when he was nervous, Felicity wondered.  

So this Oliver wasn’t her Oliver.  But he sure could focus like Oliver, she had to give him that.  His eyes hadn’t moved from the screen as he watched.  She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, could see him weighing what he saw on screen.  And she bet he wasn’t convinced.  Not yet.  But Felicity knew the money shot was coming.

She mentally winced.  Great, now she had two Olivers and porn mixed up in her head.  And with her  _ very  _ visual imagination . . . this was so not the time to be thinking about how if one Oliver was enough to create her hottest fantasies, how much better would it be with two of him?

When Oliver shifted his feet, Felicity said, “Wait for it.”  

His head turned slightly, like he was going to look at her, but his attention was recaptured by what was happening in the video: Oliver getting unmasked.  Or unhooded, in this case.  

And if she had thought this Oliver was tense before, now he was so rigid they could take him surfing.  

Rigid and a  _ Kindergarten Cop _ reference?  Her brain was the worst.  

Oliver’s breath catching was audible.  Then, in a shocked and dazed voice, he said, “Oh my God.  That--It’s . . . it’s me.”  

Felicity leaned back in her chair, making eye contact with Digg.  Who . . . was the only person left in the lair.  She looked around curiously.  

“Thea and Roy took Barry to Big Belly,” Digg said quietly, in answer to her unspoken question.  “I thought it would make things easier.”

Nodding, Felicity looked at Oliver, who was still staring at the screens.  “So you believe us now,” she stated.  Feeling a wave of sympathy for him.  Because . . . this had to be tough.  To be plopped into a different universe, filled with mostly strangers--and those people you did know, they were like strangers, too.  

Oliver suddenly blew out a breath, running his hands through his hair.  “I didn’t want to believe it.  But it’s right before my eyes.  So . . . I have no choice but to believe it.”  He let his hands drop and turned to face her.  “Here . . . Oliver Queen is some kind of superhero.”  

Over his shoulder, Felicity could see Digg’s lips twitch.  The former soldier always hated how Oliver referred to himself in the third person.  It looked like this Oliver had a bit of the same problem.  

With a small smile, Felicity stood up, folding her arms over her chest.  “He’s a hero, period.  He’s done so much good for this city, more than he even realizes.  He would hate that Slade is risking everything he’s built here, risking everyone in Starling City.  So that should tell you why it’s so important for you help us.  Especially since Oliver will probably hate us forever for doing this.”  

Actually, he would hate her.  For coming up with the idea in the first place, for sending Barry for him, and then for making the mistake even worse by convincing his alternate universe doppelganger to help them.  Because there was a really good chance this wasn’t going to work--and this Oliver, the one with the bad hair, would be the one to pay the price.  

Even if it did work . . . she didn’t think Oliver would forgive her.  And that really hurt.  After everything they had been through--

No.  This wasn’t the time to think about that.  She had to focus on convincing other!Oliver to do this.  

“You know how crazy this idea is, right?” he asked, his hands on his hips as he paced back and forth.  

“I know.  But with how crazy things are . . . it’s getting hard to tell just what is crazy lately,” Felicity admitted.  

“What if I can’t learn archery?  What if I can’t be convincing enough to fool Slade?  What if I get one of you killed?”  

The questions were rapid-fire, ones that she had already been asking herself.  She took a breath, trying to come up with some kind of answer, but Oliver pressed on.  

“I don’t think I could deal with someone dying because of me,” he said, taking a few steps closer to her.  “That’s just--I couldn’t--how do you cope with something like that?”  

“You take it one day at a time,” John said quietly.  

Oliver turned to look at Digg, his back to Felicity.  She couldn’t really tell what he was feeling or thinking like this, but she sensed that there was a silent conversation going on between the two men.  Not unlike the times when their Oliver and Digg had done the same thing.  

For the first time since she had realized this wasn’t the right Oliver, Felicity felt a flutter of hope.  Like maybe this Oliver would be willing to step up?

“We’re all going to do everything we can to help you,” Felicity told him.  “You’re not alone.  And we believe in you.”  

He wheeled around to face her, his face pale.  “How can you say that?  You don’t even know me.”  

There were a lot of things she could say to him.  But before she could pick one, she was talking.  “Because you’re Oliver.  And Oliver, in any universe, is the type of man who’s trying to be better.  Who’s trying to help.  You’re right, I don’t know you.  But I can’t help but think that since you’re Oliver, that’s who you are, too.”  

Felicity watched him as he took in what she said.  She really looked at him, wondering if she actually meant that.  If she believed it.  

And as she saw something come to life in his eyes, she realized she did believe it.  She believed in him.  

Giving his head a shake, Oliver’s shoulders dropped and he looked more relaxed than he had at any point tonight.  “I guess . . . I’m just as crazy as all of you.”

“You’ll do it?” Felicity asked, taking a step towards him and clasping her hands together.  Hearing how excited, how hopeful, she sounded.  “Really?”

The other universe’s Oliver Queen opened his mouth, then paused, looking at her for a long moment with something in his eyes she didn’t understand.  Then, his lips quirked in a small smile that was so familiar, Felicity felt her heart skip a beat.  Because that was her Oliver’s smile.  But it was . . . different.  

“Yeah.  I’ll do it.  I mean, I don’t think I’ll do a good job, but--but I’ll try.  With everything I have.”

Oh, wasn’t that so Oliver?  To doubt his abilities so much?  Felicity couldn’t help beaming at him. 

“It’s going to be hard work,” Digg said, stepping up and clapping Oliver on the shoulder.  “But we’ll be with you every step of the way.”  

The open show of support seemed to throw Oliver.  He smiled a little and made eye contact with Felicity again, who nodded in agreement with Digg.

“What Digg said,” Felicity told him, still beaming.  “Right after we get your hair cut though.”  

Oliver blinked.  “What?”

XXX

“Have I mentioned just how ridiculously unfair it is that Barry can eat like  _ that _ and stay so thin? Because it is. It’s absolutely ridiculous,” Thea said over her shoulder to Roy as she climbed down the metal steps down to the lair.

Roy was smirking a little, like he was amused by her, but really, it wasn’t fair.  Yeah, she expended a lot of energy when taking down bad guys, with all the running and the parkour and the archery.  But there was no way she could eat like Barry did.  Metahumans had all the luck.

_ More than they did, that was for sure _ , Thea thought sourly.  If only Oliver wasn’t such a stupid head, pining away like some big dumb pine tree, when anyone could see that someone much better was right in front of him.  But her brother had always been pretty . . . dumb . . . 

Thea came to a stop, her mouth falling open at what she saw in front of her.  Had they been gone longer than it had taken to fill up Barry Allen, human garbage pit?  Because when had her brother gotten back?  

“Ollie?”  

He turned around, his mouth opening, but Thea didn’t give him a chance to speak.  She dashed over and wrapped her arms around him.  “Thank God you’re back--and just in time for once!”  

“Thea.”  

At the sound of her name, she stiffened and pulled back.  Because--no, this wasn’t her brother.  It was the other Oliver.  And she felt completely embarrassed for making this mistake, but--but in her defense, when she left for Big Belly, he still had serial killer hair!

Now, though, his hair was short and sticking up a bit, just like her brother wore it.  He had exchanged the scorched dress shirt he had been wearing for one of Ollie’s black t-shirts, and Thea felt a moment of anger at the sight.  What right did this guy have, coming in here and wearing her brother’s clothes and getting his hair cut just like her brother’s?  

Stepping back, she folded her arms over her chest.  “So,  _ Single White Female _ much?”  

“Thea,” Digg said in warning.  

She felt Roy’s hand rest lightly on her back, but she didn’t know if he was giving her support or holding her back.  “I just don’t understand what’s going on here,” Thea said, knowing she sounded petulant.  “What is he doing, looking like Ollie?”  

“Oliver has agreed to help us,” Felicity said, stepping forward with her hands clasped, looking at Thea with big, pleading eyes.  “I know it’s a little strange--”

“Try freaky and disrespectful,” she snapped.  

Roy was now rubbing her shoulder, but Thea didn’t want to be calmed down.  She wanted to stay angry, so she could stop worrying about where her brother was and if he was okay, instead of standing here looking at this impostor.  

“She’s right.”  

Who was . . . agreeing with her?

“At least about this being freaky,” the fake Oliver said.  “It is.  But . . . but Felicity and Diggle explained things to me, and if I can give you the edge you need to deal with this Slade guy . . .”  He shrugged.  “Getting a haircut and learning how to use a bow and arrow doesn’t seem so bad.”  

Huh.  That sounded . . . like something Ollie might say.  All noble and self-sacrificing and shit.  Because this Oliver had stuff going on in his universe--he seemed to be Mr. Business--but he was putting it aside to help them.  Of course, he didn’t have much choice, he was stuck here for a week until Barry could take him back, but still.  

But then he started shifting on his feet, looking nervous, and that was not like her brother.  

“Is . . . is that okay?” he asked, meeting her gaze for a moment before looking away.  

“Well . . .” Thea said, glancing back at Roy, who gave her a nod.  Then she faced the man who wasn’t really her brother and nodded.  “Yeah, that’s okay.”  

The smile that appeared on his face made Thea smile back automatically, because . . . it was Ollie’s smile.  Which was confusing.  

“Ugh, this is weird.  We need to come up with something to call you, so we don’t get confused,” Thea said.  

“What about Ollie?” Digg suggested, a smile playing on his lips.  

In unison, the Queen siblings winced.  “No,” Oliver said.  “Only Thea gets to call me that.  Well, my Thea, I mean--you don’t have to call me that,” he told her.  

“Yeah,” Thea replied.  “What about your middle name?”  

“Jonas?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.  

“Same middle name,” Thea said under her breath.  

Felicity pushed her glasses up.  “You know, it’s getting late--and where’s Barry?”

“Went back to Central City,” Roy contributed.

“Coward,” Felicity said good-naturedly.  “Okay, like I was saying, it’s late, and we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.  Thea, could you take Oliver home with you?”  

Thea nodded, unfolding her arms and letting them drop to her sides.  “Sure.”  

“Won’t Mom and Dad be suspicious?”

The question punctured the tentative cheerfulness in the room.  The other Oliver immediately seemed to sense his mistake.  “Or . . . do you not live with them?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the group.

“Mom and Dad are dead,” Thea said bluntly.  She knew she could have said it better or differently, but the innocent question reminded her that this wasn’t her brother.  Not really.  

Because this Oliver?  When he heard that a different universe’s version of his parents were dead?  A whirl of emotions played out in his eyes.  Regret.  Sadness.  Disappointment.  It was all there, in a way her actual brother would have never shown.  

“I . . . I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking right at Thea.  “You must feel all alone right now.  If you want, I can just . . . stay here.”

It was so damn strange.  He wasn’t her brother.  He didn’t react like Ollie, didn’t move like Ollie, didn’t dress like Ollie.  But . . . he was kinda Ollie, too.  Because God, that whole martyr act?  That was her brother to a T.  

“God, no,” Thea said, shaking her head.  “I’m not gonna make you sleep here on that lumpy cot.”  

“Hey!  It’s not lumpy.  I wouldn’t buy Oliver a lumpy bed,” Felicity protested.

Thea rolled her eyes, noticing the look that Oliver gave Felicity, then grabbed his arm.  “C’mon, you’re coming with me.  We’ll see you guys in the morning.”  

Giving Roy a quick but thorough kiss, Thea waved to Digg and Felicity and pulled Oliver along with her.  

“Are you dating that kid?”  Her kinda brother sounded suspicious.  Critical.  Worried.  

Oh, man.  He was  _ just  _ like her brother.  

XXX

There had been many a time when people had said he was too quiet for his own good. Roy was a firm believer that if he had something to say, he’d say it and that would be that. There was no reason to be blabbing when it wasn’t necessary--Blondie took care of that for the whole team in his opinion. It was part of her charm. 

The whole situation they were in was freaky--there really was no question about that--but as per usual, Team Arrow as a unit had hit the nail in the head at finding a loophole to Oliver’s rules.  Thea especially, with her own little freak-out about the NOliver, as Roy’s brain had chosen to call him, wearing her brother’s clothes.  He’d had very little to say in the matter. Everything had been covered by everyone else . . . except one thing.

Vindication. Or at least, the possibility for it.

All had been going according to plan, even if the plan was as crazy as any their fearless leader had come up with. Thea and the NOliver had arrived this morning with plans of getting started on his archery training ASAP.  Of course Roy had to be there for that. It had been really weird to see the man, especially now that he had the right haircut and was wearing clothes from Real Oliver’s closet. The plaid shirt and jeans were something Roy was sure he’d seen him wear before. Although before he’d gotten with Thea, Roy wouldn’t have noticed another dude’s clothes to save his life.  Having a fashionista as your better half made you notice that sort of thing, apparently. 

Except they didn’t get too far with the training. They hadn’t started the training at all, actually. All they had managed was for his girlfriend to show the man who looked like her brother her own bow and the different kinds of arrows in her quiver, which their Oliver had made.  Mr. Control Freak wouldn’t trust either Thea or Roy to make them. 

No training had been done before the ringtone on Thea’s cell phone had interrupted her mid-sentence.  When she had taken a look at the screen, she had let out a mix of a groan and a growl. Kinda sexy, but no one needed to know his particular thought on the matter.

“Oh. My. God. I swear, this new distributor is the most incompetent one on the planet,” she had said, glancing towards the NOliver apologetically before walking away to answer the call, already sounding pissed with whoever was on the other side of the line.

“I guess it’s time to take a break,” NOliver had said and Roy had unfolded his arms from his chest.

“No time for that,” Roy had said with a shake of his head. “Come on.”

Leading NOliver towards the back of the lair, the space that they used mostly for storage, he motioned for him to help by moving a few of the boxes around. It took only a minute or two to find what he was looking for, then Roy had the case he wanted in his arms and was carrying it towards the table that Oliver used for making arrows.

“Open it,” Roy said, having flipped the little locks that kept the matte black case closed tight.

“What is it?” NOliver asked, looking both curious and cautious.

At least he had  _ that  _ going for him, Roy thought to himself. He wasn’t the reckless Ollie from Thea’s youth and he obviously wasn’t stupid. Those were two characteristics that would work in his favor.

“Look, I’m not gonna blow you up or something like that, ok? I might go out there and fight the good fight, but trust me. I value my life and I know Blondie and Thea would kill me if you got blown to bits your first day on the job.”

It was so weird to see the man smirk. Weird was going to be happening a whole lot with this guy here, Roy figured. And it wasn’t like Oliver didn’t smile, Oliver smiled...mostly when that uppity lawyer lady was around.  But it was either the fake ‘Queen’ smile or the dopey yet sad smile he thought no one could see. 

In this case, NOliver was smirking in amusement. Honest-to-God amusement and Roy wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“You’ll wait till tomorrow to blow me up then?” NOliver asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I’ll wait til we have to train you with explosive arrows. If you blow yourself up then, it won’t be my fault.”

A soft breath that sounded like a chuckle came from NOliver and Roy watched as the man approached the case.  He flipped the lid up slowly, looking at the contents for a long moment before pushing the lid back all the way, the lid laying flat on the metal table.  The bow nestled inside the case, in a bed of deep grey foam, was a beauty. Another thing that Roy wouldn’t have thought in his old life. Sure, weapons could be good looking, but he hadn’t really appreciated them for that.  Back then it had all been about practicality. 

“Is this his?” NOliver’s voice was soft, quiet.  Like he was talking about something important.  Which he was.

“Sort of. This is his spare. When Blondie designed his bow, she made sure to order two of them, just in case.  He sent this one to Central City and a friend from Barry’s team tweaked it a little bit. They sent it back a while ago, but Oliver hasn’t broken the other one, so no need to use this one yet,” Roy explained with a shrug. 

“It looks exactly like the one he uses, same weight and dimensions. Custom made just for him. Or in this case, you. Should make it easier for you to handle,” Roy said.  He motioned with his head towards the case, even though NOliver wasn’t looking at him at all. “Pick it up.”

That made the man turn his gaze to him, looking uncertain again.  Roy rolled his eyes and pointed at the case.

“Pick. It. Up.”

It took another moment for him to glance back at the case and then another for him to reach inside and pick up the bow. Even though Roy knew the guy had no clue what he was doing, beginner’s luck obviously worked on NOliver’s favor: he gripped the bow correctly from the get-go. The moment he lifted up the bow and held it in his hand, while looking down at it, something skittered down Roy’s spine. 

Damn, he was spending too much time with Felicity, watching those superhero movies she liked. But it sure as shit felt like one of those ‘wow’ moments. Like Thor finally picking up his hammer. Or Spiderman figuring out how to shoot his spider webs and then swinging away. 

All he needed was the costume and the picture would’ve been perfect. 

“Huh. We might actually pull this off,” Roy muttered to himself, before folding his arms over his red hoodie. “How does it feel?”

“Perfect . . .” NOliver said in a whisper.

Leaving the NOliver to his newly-found love for the bow he’d be using, or not using if they were lucky, Roy fetched two more items from the storage area and walked back to the doppelganger of his mentor. 

“Wanna play with that then?” he asked, placing the items down, one by the work table and the other on top of it. 

“Yeah--yes, I think I do.” NOliver sounded surprised but also kind of pumped about the prospect.

“OK, then,” Roy said and then pulled up a metal bucket, handing it over to NOliver while plucking the bow from his hand with lightning-quick speed. “First things first. Fill that bucket up with water from the bathroom over there,” he said, pointing towards the bathroom door a few feet away.  

“And then pour the water into the bowl here,” he said, motioning to the bowl on the work table.  “School’s about to begin.”

That was how NOliver found himself at Roy’s mercy.

It was about time he got revenge for the hours and hours of water slapping--real revenge, unlike the sarcastic quips Roy had made about the water-slapping routine, quips that his mentor acted like he didn’t hear.  Even Thea was amused by the turn of events when she managed to swing down to the lair, in-between fixing the problem with the new distributor. She’d given Roy a kiss on the cheek and a few pats on the shoulder, while telling him to ‘be nice’ before disappearing once more to deal with the club’s inventory apocalypse.

Even though at first he grumbled quietly about how stupid the exercise was, Roy had to give it to NOliver.  The man didn’t give up. He just kept doing what he was supposed to, even if he shared Roy’s feeling on the whole thing being a bit wacko. He kept on slapping the water surface over and over, not caring about the puddle his attacks were creating on the floor or how wet his clothes were getting from the splashing. He’d also learned just when Roy would instruct him to get more water, after the second time Roy had told him to refill the bowl, and now went to get it without asking or waiting for the instruction. He’d simply stop, pick up the bucket, disappear for a minute or two and then come back, refilling the bowl and getting back to the slapping.

They’d been at it for a few hours when the clicking of heels coming down the metal staircase signaled the arrival of one of his teammates--the brainiest member of the whole team. NOliver had been so focused on his task, having just refilled the bowl, that he didn’t even look up from his work. Turning his gaze towards the approaching petite blonde, Roy greeted her with a nod.

“Are you seriously having him slap water?”

“Uh . . . yeah. We need him to at least be able to draw back the bowstring.  Baby hands over here wouldn’t have been able to do that without this,” Roy defended, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“So this has nothing to do with getting a bit of revenge?” she asked, tilting her head at him.

“Nah.”

The blonde did not look amused or convinced, she simply shook her head and walked past him towards her computers. The combo of moving her head and walking on her beloved high heels proved to be a disaster. Before Roy could react, Felicity had already slipped on the puddle of water and was falling back. Her trip to concussion-ville was thwarted by a pair of strong, wet, arms wrapping around her quick as lightning and holding her up. NOliver hadn’t missed a beat, probably having seen things out of the corner of his eye in a very Oliver like way, and had simply grabbed her out of thin air, in a move that looked more like a dance dip than anything else.

“Oh crap,” Roy muttered to himself, watching as the NOliver and Felicity just stared at each other with wide eyes. 

The insanely high level of UST the blonde genius shared with his mentor was equally present with the Oliver from another earth--and if that didn’t spell disaster, then Roy didn’t know what did. He was sure that as stuck as Oliver was on Gorgeous Laurel, he wouldn’t take it easy if someone else showed interest in his partner in crime. And the way NOliver was now looking down at Felicity was one of obvious interest.

“You okay there, Felicity?” Diggle’s voice interrupted the moment, making the doppelganger lift the blonde back onto her wobbly feet. 

Roy turned his attention to the ex-military man, giving him a ‘did you see that too or was it just me?’ look.  By the unamused look on Diggle’s face, Roy knew with certainty that it had not been just him. There was definitely something between the NOliver and Felicity that could brew up.

Shit.

“You’re all wet,” the blonde blurted once she was on her feet, patting the NOliver on the chest a few times before turning her attention towards Diggle, who had come to stand by Roy. “Yup! Fine. Just Fine. You know me, being a klutz is part of my charm and all that. Woo! That was a lucky catch. Thanks for touching me . . . I mean, not touching me,  _ touching me _ . That’s not what I meant. There has been seriously no touching, touching, like that around here. Ever. But yes, thanks for grabbing me. Grabbing a  _ hold  _ of me . . . so I wouldn’t fall down, I mean. God, my brain hates me. I’m just gonna--”  

Felicity pointed towards her computer desk as she wiggled out of the NOliver’s arms.  She walked away, muttering to herself and blushing all the way from the roots of her hair to her toes.

There was a momentary pause. The NOliver watched Felicity walk away, his head slightly tilted to the side, as if he’d just discovered an interesting mystery. The sight of said mystery was then blocked by a very stern looking ex-military man, who crossed his oversized arms over his equally broad chest, looking down from his height before shifting his gaze pointedly towards the water bowl.

“You really might want to get back to that,” was all Digg said--no further instructions needed.

The NOliver eyed Diggle for a moment before catching his drift and doing as he was told, going back to the water exercise. And if his eyes strayed every once in a while towards the computer banks, it wasn’t really all that surprising.

“Sparring next,” Diggle told Roy after a few minutes of watching the man.

Turning his back towards NOliver, Roy leaned close to his teammate.

“Let’s hope this one knows he’s able to keep his shirt on for that,” the young man said. “I’ll go get changed.” 

And with that he headed off to get a change of clothes, eager to see how the new entry on Diggle’s shit list handled a sparring session. 

XXX

Structure.

Just like with everything in life, a solid foundation meant you could build something strong on top of it. John Diggle was a firm believer of that. The sturdier the base, the better product in the end. A good moral compass, honor, trustworthiness: all those things made for a decent human being.  With structure and responsibility placed on top of that, a good man could become a great man.

After Roy had his fun, having Deuce Oliver--or just Deuce in Digg’s head--slap water in a bowl just like Oliver had done to him at the beginning of his training, Diggle had instructed the man to put on some of Oliver’s training clothes. He’d made damn sure to provide him with a black t-shirt to go with the the pants, because they seriously didn’t need another Oliver prancing around the lair without a shirt on. That’d take the whole ‘similarities’ thing to another level of awkward.

Once all three men were gathered at the mats, Diggle shot a glance towards Felicity’s computers, catching the blonde staring at them before she swiveled on her chair quickly and started typing once again. He sighed heavily at that, running his hand over his face. This could spell trouble.

“All right, man. We’ll start you out easy and see what you’ve got,” he said, motioning for Roy to step up as Deuce’s sparring partner.

After half an hour of circling the two, he knew that the man from the alternate universe had at least some idea of what he was doing. His form was solid when it came to hand to hand combat. He certainly knew how to throw a punch, catching Roy by surprise on more than one occasion. The young man from the Glades had to use his superb agility to duck out of the way of the blows. Deuce was quick on his feet, but nowhere near Oliver’s level of dexterity when it came to footwork. 

The biggest surprise of the evening had come when Roy had managed to lead Deuce towards the training dummy, attempting to pin him down for an attack. Realizing this, the taller man had faked a retreat, at a sprint pace, making Roy follow. Using the dummy’s arms as stepping stones he parkoured his way to the very top of the dummy.  Roy hadn’t been able to stop and hit the body of the dummy almost at full force. Before Diggle knew it, Deuce was doing a backflip, off the top of the dummy, landing on the front side of the apparatus, right behind Roy.  As steady on his feet as Diggle had ever seen Oliver do, Deuce trapped Roy against the dummy with his forearm to the back of the younger man’s neck. 

After they had separated, with Roy looking somewhat impressed and Deuce looking pleased yet surprised, Digg let them take a drink from their water bottles before he approached his teammate. It was time to kick things up a notch. Laying his hand on Roy’s shoulder, Diggle motioned towards the weapons rack. 

“Eskrima sticks time?”

“Hell yeah,” the young man replied, off like a shot to grab three pairs.

“I don’t even know what those are,” Deuce admitted, wiping his forehead with his forearm.

The comment made Diggle smirk.

“We don’t have time for kid gloves if we’re going to get you up to speed. So you’ll learn. Quickly.”

“I think you’re having a bit too much fun with all this,” Deuce offered with an amused huff.

“We haven’t gotten anywhere near the fun part yet, man. Not even close,” Diggle replied, taking a pair of eskrima sticks when Roy came back. 

Deuce grabbed a set and moved them around clumsily for a little bit, trying to get his bearings with them as Roy showed off with his.  Then Roy smirked at his teammate.  “Wanna do the honors?” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Diggle replied, getting into position before attacking.

A few minutes in and Diggle’s obvious advantage, thanks to his experience with the eskrima sticks, had gone to shit and he motioned Roy in, so that the three men were on the mats and sparring together. Though he was sloppy with his strikes, Diggle saw a lot of their Oliver in Deuce. There was the laser like focus, the precision in how he moved, the control over his own body. He lacked the awareness of his surroundings--both Roy and Digg managed to make contact thanks to that--but just like Oliver, the man sparring with them was not one to back down. He learned their movements at a remarkable speed, not only managing to counter most blows but connected on some of his own. 

Structure. The base on this man had already been laid out--and it was sturdy as hell. The fact that he was even willing to go through this, in order to help a bunch of strangers, spoke of his character.  And now all they have to do was train him, put him through a trial by fire, and forge him into something else. Something new and quite possibly stronger than he ever thought he could be.

With Diggle and Roy for training, Thea for support and Felicity as the brain and heart of the whole plan, Digg started liking their odds more and more with every passing moment, with every hit taken, with every blow given. But damn, was this going to be one long-ass training session.

End, Chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some great moments in this chapter, we think--as well as the introduction of a character we hope y’all will be excited to see! We look forward to hearing what you think about this chapter.

 

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Thea said, sounding tired.  “Lift the bow as you pull back on the bowstring--keep drawing back until your thumb hits your anchor point, aka that spot on your jaw--aim along the arrow, then relax your fingers to release the bowstring and shoot the arrow.”  

Oliver nodded and did as Thea instructed, trying to remember everything she and Roy had told him over the last two days.  That moment he had experienced, the first time he had picked up the other Oliver’s bow . . . he still felt it when he raised the bow and drew back on the bowstring.  But so far, that feeling hadn’t translated into accuracy.  If he hit the target, he wasn’t able to hit the same spot twice.  

Not yet.  But he was  _ going  _ to get this.  He was going to master this.  There was so much riding on getting this . . . 

A slow breath escaped him, trying to release all the tension inside his body.  Then, he let his fingers straighten and he released the arrow.

It flew straight and fast away from the bow . . . impacting at the very edge of the target.  

His shoulders slumped and he looked at Thea.  She was biting her lip, looking nervous, but she did her best to sound chipper.  “Fire a full round and then we’ll talk.”  

Nodding, Oliver fired five more arrows, yet none of them came any closer to the bullseye.  One, to his shame, actually missed the target completely.  

“Damn it,” he said, lowering the bow.  “What am I doing wrong?”

Turning to look at Thea, he saw her fidgeting, which was unlike her.  Or at least, unlike his Thea.  “I don’t know, Ollie,” she said, glancing at Roy, who shrugged.

“It all looks good to me.  But Thea would know more than me--she’s been shooting with you longer.  The other you, that is.”

“Maybe we could take some video of you,” Felicity suggested.  “Slow it down, compare it to Oliver, see if we can figure out what you’re doing differently.”  

“I don’t think it’s anything physical,” Thea said.  “It seems mental to me.  Digg, what do you think?”

Digg walked over to join the group, his arms folded over his chest.  “Could be.  You’ve been putting a lot of time into this, Oliver.  Maybe a break would do the trick.”  

Oliver shook his head.  “No, I need to get this.  I  _ can  _ get this.”  

“Of course you can, Ollie,” Thea reassured.  “Felicity, let’s set up the video cameras, see what that tells us.”  

“I’m going to shoot another round,” he said, walking up to the target to gather the arrows he had previously fired.  

He could hear them talking softly behind him--and he knew it was about him.  Ever since he had arrived, he knew these people kept comparing him to their Oliver.  And most of the time, he thought he had come out close to even.  At least when it came to being a vigilante, he hadn’t been found totally wanting.  He had held his own in the sparring; he knew Digg and Roy had been impressed with his abilities.  

But archery was something very different.  He was trying to match a man who had been using a bow for seven years, who had a level of expertise that was unparalleled.  It was crazy to think he could do the same after two days.  And Oliver knew that.  

It didn’t matter how crazy it was, though.  Because if he was going to be able to help the team, if he was going to be what they needed, he had to know how to shoot accurately.

Turning around, he bumped into Felicity, who must have moved to be right behind him.  Oliver took a step back, his breath catching at the incidental contact.  It reminded him too much of that moment yesterday, when he had kept her from hitting the wet floor, her warm, soft body pressed up against his . . . 

He took another step back.

“Oh, sorry!” Felicity said, her cheeks flushing pink.  “I didn’t realize I was so close.  Well, I wanted to be close--no, not wanted, needed . . . needed to be close to talk to you without everyone hearing, because I wanted to ask you how you’re doing and I didn’t want you to feel put on the spot, because maybe you’re feeling uncomfortable--you’re probably feeling uncomfortable, this whole situation is just without comfort--it’s like  _ The Princess and the Pea _ , with how sensitive the princess was.  Not that I’m saying you’re some fairy-tale princess; you’ve got legitimate reasons to feel sensitive.”

“Felicity?” he asked, trying to figure out if she had told him what she wanted to talk about.  

“Let’s go for a walk,” she said with a bright smile.  “You’ve been down here a lot and you could use some fresh air to clear your head.  Besides, I could use some coffee--and maybe I want something I can hold over our Oliver’s head, too.”  

It was true . . . he had been down here a lot.  Ever since he had agreed to go along with this, he had been in one of two places: the basement lair of Team Arrow or the ultra-modern loft Thea shared with her Oliver.  And really, he only went to the loft to sleep.  So he hadn’t gotten a chance to look around this Starling City, to find out what was different here.

And he was certainly curious about what Felicity meant about having something to hold over Oliver’s head.  Did he not let the team out of the lair when they were working?  

“I wouldn’t mind some coffee,” Oliver said slowly, noticing how Felicity’s smile flickered a little.  Like she hadn’t been expecting him to say that and wished he had said what she was expecting to hear.

“Well, okay!” she said a bit too loudly.  “Oliver and I are getting some coffee, everyone,” she announced, taking his arm and tugging him towards the door.  She only paused to pick up her purse from her desk.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Thea looking amused while Digg had a concerned expression on his face.  But then he had to climb up the stairs in order to follow Felicity.

The moment they were outside, Oliver took a deep breath.  Even in the dirty alley, with the dumpsters and litter, the air smelled good.  There were a lot of clouds in the sky, but some sunlight was present.  And the light seemed to keep finding Felicity, in her bright floral dress and pink high heels.  

“There’s a little coffee cart at the corner, although normally you--I mean, Oliver, the other Oliver--he doesn’t drink coffee,” Felicity said.  She ducked her head when she finished talking, her shoulders hunching a little.  

He had the strangest urge to reach out and touch her shoulder.  To give her a little bit of reassurance.  It was so strong, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  “Well, I do drink coffee.  I wouldn’t be able to survive without it.”  

Felicity gave him a small, grateful smile.  “Normally, Oliver drinks green tea.  He’s very particular about what he puts into his body.”  Her cheeks flamed and she shook her head.  “Ooh, it’s even worse to make an innuendo about Oliver’s body when it’s to someone who just looks like him.”

“Is that . . . is that what you think?  That I only look like him?” Oliver asked cautiously, filing away in the back of his mind the fact that Felicity had noticed his body.  

The light glinted off Felicity’s glasses, somewhat hiding her eyes from his inspection.  “No . . . no, there’s some similarities.  But the differences are pretty glaring.”  Her lips quirked up in a small smile.  One that looked a tiny bit bitter.  “I’d never be walking to the coffee cart with my Oliver.”  

“Why?” he asked, hoping he sounded somewhat casual.  “Is he an all-business kind of guy?”

“No--well, yes, he is.  But Oliver’s also very concerned about our safety.  He doesn’t like to be seen in public with any of us other than Thea. Well, Thea and Diggle, since Digg is supposed to be his bodyguard and driver.”  

Oliver frowned.  What did that mean?  He wanted the team to be safe--so he didn’t want to be with them?  That didn’t make any sense.  

“Why not?” he asked, unable to hold back the question.  Because he was just so damn curious about this man who looked like him, who had the same name, but didn’t act like him.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders.  “He’s convinced he brings disaster into everyone’s lives.  So he thinks if no one knows he’s friends with any of us, we’ll be safe.  Thea won’t let him get away with that--and it would be pretty hard, since brother and sister, you know.  But for me and John and Roy, aside from keeping up appearances . . . I don’t know if he’s been seen with any of the three of us more than five times combined, and it’s going on two years that we’ve all been working together.”  

That might be the dumbest thing Oliver had ever heard.  If the other Oliver put the people in his life into danger, he must want to protect them from that danger.  But wasn’t a better way to protect them was to be with them?  He didn’t understand why Oliver wanted to avoid being with the team out in public.  But he didn’t like it.  Because it sure seemed like Felicity took it personally, even with knowing the other Oliver’s reasons.  It was like she thought her Oliver was embarrassed to be around her.

“So . . . you wanted me to come with you so you could prove to the other Oliver that nothing bad would happen if we were seen together in public?” Oliver asked, before giving his head a shake.  “These kind of conversations are confusing.”  

“Tell me about it.  You don’t even know Oliver--I do, so it’s doubly confusing for me,” Felicity said with a lopsided grin before she stepped up to the coffee cart.  “Hi, a large coffee with two shots of vanilla, a shot of almond, and a shot of hazelnut, please.”  She looked at Oliver.  

“How can you taste the coffee with all that syrup?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.  He looked at the man with the coffee. “Just a large black coffee.  Thank you.”  

Felicity shook her head.  “Don’t tell me you take it completely black?”

“No, I add sugar, but only one packet--not half a cup’s worth in flavor shots,” he teased her.  There was something about her that made him want to joke around, to be playful and flirty--

Flirty?  No.  It was possible to be friendly and have fun without flirting.  Because Oliver hadn’t missed the clear signs that there was something weird going on between Felicity and his other self.  Between what Felicity had said and the looks on Roy and Digg’s faces whenever he got too close to her, Oliver knew he was in the middle of a complex situation.  He needed to remember that.  

A somewhat-awkward silence fell between them as they waited for their coffees.  Oliver felt very conscious of his body, of how close he was to Felicity as she stood beside him, how her hand with her purple nails looked wrapped around her coffee cup, how his heart was pounding and his hands were oh-so-slightly shaking as he poured some sugar into his coffee.  

He wracked his brain for something to talk about, but he kept coming up empty.  Because . . . this wasn’t something he was prepared for.  Well, nothing about this was expected: going to another universe, having to impersonate a vigilante, needing to learn fighting and archery and so much more.  

But the most unexpected element was Felicity.

She was just so colorful and bright and full of life.  And even more than that, there was something so hopeful about her.  She believed he could do this.  She had believed from the beginning, even before she knew if he could fight or even draw back the bow.  What made her able to believe like that?  To believe in  _ him _ ?

“Do you like using the bow?”  

His head turned quickly towards Felicity at her question.  “Pardon?” he asked, not really sure he had heard her.

Felicity smiled, a dimple appearing in her cheek that was flat-out adorable.  “‘Pardon’.  That’s so polite.  But I guess you were brought up to be polite--etiquette classes and all that.  What was I saying?  Oh, yes.  Do you like using the bow?”

“Oh,” he said, focusing on the question.  “Actually, I do.  I--this is going to sound crazy.”  

When Felicity raised her eyebrows, he couldn’t help the small laugh he let out.  “Right.  Anyway--the first time I picked up the bow, I just . . . felt something.  It felt right.  Like it belonged in my hand.”  

“And now?” she asked, taking a sip from her coffee.  “After learning how to use it?”  

“Hmm,” he said, looking down at his shoes as he put together what Felicity was implying.  “You think I need to use that moment when I’m shooting.”  

She smiled.  “I know nothing about archery.  But since Thea and Digg think it’s mental . . .”

Oliver couldn’t help returning her smile.  “I’ll give that a try.”  

“We can still use the cameras, and there’s other options, too,” Felicity reassured him.  “But I think you’ve just been putting too much pressure on yourself.  Just . . . just try and enjoy yourself a little, in the middle of all this craziness.”  

Nodding, Oliver looked at her.  “This is the closest I’ve come to a vacation in five years,” he admitted.  

She looked at him, sympathy and understanding clear in her face.  “I haven’t had a vacation, either.  Being an IT girl slash tech support for a vigilante doesn’t really come with time off.”  

Unable to hold back a soft laugh, Oliver smiled at her.  “Neither do CEOs, even if I technically do have annual leave.”

They walked the rest of the way back to the lair, a comfortable silence falling between them.  Oliver sipped his coffee, which was good--especially without cream--and considered Felicity’s advice.  He naturally took on problems and felt he had to take responsibility.  If that wasn’t true, he wouldn’t even be trying to be the other Oliver.  Wouldn’t even help the team.  But it definitely seemed like the pressure had been getting to him.  He couldn’t wait to get back and take another try at target practice.  

So lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed Felicity had drawn up short until he bumped into her.  Oliver had the fleeting impression of soft, warm curves, before he immediately stepped back.  “Felicity?”  

Before Felicity could reply, Oliver saw why she had stopped.  

Tommy, only a dozen yards away, standing underneath a sign that read VERDANT in green letters.  

“Oh,  _ frak _ ,” she whispered, but Tommy must have heard her or noticed them out of the corner of his eye, because he looked up from his cell phone and grinned.  

“Hey!” he said, waving at them before he started walking, a definite limp in his step.  “Oliver, I didn’t know you were back.  And . . . wow, getting coffee with Felicity.”  Tommy’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, curious and intrigued.  

“This isn’t Oliver.  I mean, it is Oliver, he’s  _ an  _ Oliver, but he’s not  _ our  _ Oliver,” Felicity blurted out.  

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.  “What?”  He looked at Oliver, staring at him.

“Barry,” she explained.  

Clearly, not only did Tommy know about his best friend being a vigilante, he knew this wasn’t the first time the speedster had made this kind of monumental mistake.  Because Tommy just nodded slowly, still staring at Oliver.  “Wow.  This is . . . wow.”

“Should we be talking about this out in the open?” Oliver had to ask, glancing around.  For some reason, the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end.  

Felicity looked at him strangely but nodded.  “Yeah, let’s talk about this inside.”  

With a wave of the arm, Tommy gestured for Felicity to go ahead of them.  Oliver made to follow, only for Tommy to put a hand on his chest.  “Look, I don’t know what your story is yet, but let me give you a piece of advice,” Tommy said quietly, his eyes locked on Oliver’s.  “You mess with any of the people on the team--Digg, Roy, Thea, Felicity--and you’ll have to answer for that.  Do you understand?”  

Oliver searched Tommy’s face, feeling his mouth go dry.  It was one thing to have Digg giving him those probing looks or for Roy to roll his eyes.  It was something else to have someone flat-out say he was on notice--and he hadn’t missed how Tommy had emphasized Thea and Felicity.  Not to mention that he was getting a warning, a real, legitimate warning from a Tommy who was suddenly a lot darker and more intense than the one in his universe . . .  

“I do,” he said in a low voice.  

His sincerity must have convinced Tommy, because he nodded and removed his hand from Oliver’s chest, taking a step back as his smile returned.  “Let’s get inside, where you and Felicity can explain all of this to me.”

“Okay,” Oliver said, still feeling uncertain.  

Everything seemed fine as he followed Tommy and Felicity into Verdant--which apparently was the club Oliver and Tommy co-owned and Thea managed. And even though the slight limp to his friend’s gait was noticeable enough for him to wonder what had happened, Oliver’s mind kept returning to why Tommy had warned him.  

The feeling persisted until he returned to the lair and picked up the bow.  When that sense of rightness flowed through him again, everything receded into the background.  The questions about Felicity’s relationship with his counterpart, the pressure of trying to be that other Oliver, the fear of getting someone hurt . . . 

It all faded away.  He lifted the bow and fired six arrows, all of them sinking solidly into the bullseye.  

“Wow,” Thea said, walking up behind him as Oliver stared at the target, breathing and smiling widely.  “It looks like Felicity did the trick.”  

Yes, she had.

XXX

“Oh, frak.”

This was by far the first time Oliver had heard Felicity utter the strange expression.  He kept meaning to ask her where it came from, although from the context he could guess what it meant.  

Although she had said it before, she hadn't said like she just had: tiredly, with resignation and worry in her voice. 

“What is it, Felicity?” Digg asked, looking up from the guns he was cleaning. 

Oliver lowered his bow, taking a few steps towards Felicity’s computers, so he could hear what was going on. 

“Isabel,” Felicity said with a sigh.  “She has ‘just a few questions’ that she needs answers before the next board meeting.”

“Which is . . . when?” Thea asked, joining the group around the computers. 

Everyone, including Oliver, looked at Thea curiously.  He noticed Felicity and Digg’s surprise, and so did Thea.  His sister shrugged.  “I might not want to work at QC, but it is my family's company.”

“And if Oliver doesn't have access to QC funds, he'd have a hard time paying for all this,” Felicity said, waving a hand around the lair.  “The board meeting is in two weeks; our Oliver should be back by then, so we won't have to worry about her on top of Slade.  At least not more than we're already worrying about her.”

The disdain was obvious in Felicity’s voice, and it surprised Oliver.  “Who is Isabel?”

“A demon in the body of a ballerina,” Felicity said shortly, tapping a few keys loudly. 

Now he was really curious.  It didn't seem like Felicity to speak ill of another woman.  Unable to help himself, he stepped forward to lightly rest his hand on Felicity’s shoulder. 

Felicity looked up at him, her eyes wide behind her glasses.  Oliver stared back, his fingers tingling where they touched Felicity’s skin. 

“Isabel Rochev is Oliver's partner at QC.  She maneuvered her way into gaining half the company last September and has been a thorn in Oliver's side ever since,” Digg said, his voice even.  His eyes flicked down, focusing on Oliver's hand on Felicity’s shoulder. 

Oliver did his best to look casual as he moved his hand to his side.  “Do you suspect she wants to try a hostile takeover?”

“She hasn't hidden her desire to own the whole company, although we can't figure out why she wants it,” Felicity said, rolling her shoulders a little. 

“There's something off about her,” Digg added.  “This is more than business for her.”

“It's personal,” Thea said, her arms crossed over her chest. 

Nodding, Oliver gazed at the computer screens, lost in thought.  “Felicity, can you get me some info on Isabel Rochev?  Her business associates, financial history--the works?”

“What?” Felicity asked blankly. 

“I've been running Queen Consolidated in my universe for a year,” Oliver said, shifting a little under everyone's shocked stares.  “Well, as much as my parents let me run it.  Maybe with a fresh set of eyes, I'll see something you've missed.”

The three of them exchanged a look.  “He's bound to know more about business than Ollie does,” Thea said. 

“He knows more about business than all of us put together, including Oliver,” Digg said.  “Oliver doesn't exactly spend a lot of time on the company, other than putting out fires.”

Felicity turned around in her chair, her fingers flying over the keyboard.  Within a few moments, the screens were filled with data.   Newspaper articles, financial reports, and a photo of Isabel Rochev. 

The woman in question was certainly beautiful, in a coldly flawless way.   And very familiar to Oliver. 

“You're right, Felicity,” Oliver said quietly.  “She is a demon in the body of a ballerina.”

“Oliver?”  Felicity sounded confused, even flabbergasted. 

Straightening up, he took a step back from the computers.  He gripped the bow in his hand, grateful he was still holding it for some reason.  

“In my universe . . . that's Natasha Rocque.  She's been my father's mistress, off and on, for ten years.  Ever since she caught his eye as a QC intern,” Oliver recited flatly, fighting the wave of emotion he felt at seeing the woman who had nearly destroyed his family. 

A small hand with calloused fingers slid into Oliver's, and he looked down to see Thea giving him a sympathetic smile.  He squeezed her hand tightly, thinking about how strong his sister was. 

“I wonder . . .” Felicity said, turning to her computers and getting to work.  “I haven’t been able to find anything on Isabel Rochev.  But maybe it’s because it’s not really her name--maybe she’s Natasha Rocque here, too.”  

For a moment, Oliver gazed at Felicity’s back, taking in the strong lines, the speed with which bet hands moved.  Marveling at her using her clearly exceptional mind to help him. 

No . . . not him.  Her Oliver. 

“C’mon, Ollie, let's do some more shooting,” Thea said quietly, giving a tug on his hand.  “Felicity will let us know if she finds anything.”

“Yeah, by the fist pump,” Digg said with amusement, walking back to his guns. 

Oliver let Thea tug him over towards the archery targets.  He was worried with his unsettled mind, he would lose his hard-won clarity.  But instead, he found that stepping up to the line and lifting the bow let everything fall away. 

Isabel, Natasha, Slade, Thea, Felicity--they all floated away and there was just the arrow and the target. 

And every arrow hit the bullseye. 

XXX

“So, now that he is actually not going to poke his own eye out with an arrow . . .” Thea began, before Roy made a quip.

“Or anyone else’s without actually meaning to.” 

“Hey!” Oliver protested.  While he was glad the arrival of Roy, with Chinese food, had helped lighten the mood down here, that didn’t mean he was ready to accept mocking from the Abercrombie model his sister was dating.

Oliver’s protest made Thea smirk benevolently.  Oliver knew he only looked like her brother, but after only two days, that had stopped mattering to him.  Though at first it had been hard to reconcile this wasn’t really his sister, it seemed like in both of these alternate universes, there were a few common denominators.  

The biggest one?  Oliver Queen loved his sister.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, now that we know for sure he’s not going to poke his eye out or blow himself up--”

“I still vote for keeping the explosive arrows out of his quiver for a while,” Roy offered, grinning at the glare Thea shot him for interrupting her again.

“Your faith in me is touching, really,” Oliver said, taking another bite of broccoli from as-healthy-as-Chinese-food-got dish that Roy had brought for him.

“All I’m saying is just ‘cause you can hit the target now, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to keep the destruction of property to a minimum,” Roy argued.

“It is easier to blend in when buildings are left standing . . .” Felicity mused out loud before turning around quickly in her chair, a horrified look on her face. “Not that you’d be so bad of a shot, you’d end up blowing up a building. We have already established that you’re not. You were hitting the bullseye dead center earlier, which is a good thing, considering who we are trying to pass you off as and the fact he has this startling reputation of never missing his target…”

“My point being,” Thea said as she wrapped an arm around Oliver’s shoulder, “we need to figure out something for you to wear.”

“I thought you said I could borrow what I needed from his closet . . .?” Oliver asked slowly, not following Thea’s line of thought.

“She’s not talking about those kind of clothes, man,” Diggle offered helpfully, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Didn’t he take his suit with him though?” Roy asked, twirling his chopsticks inside his food carton. 

“The new one, yes,” Felicity replied, getting up from the computer chair--the chair that Oliver had come to realize was more like a throne than anything else.

It was the second night he’d spent in this new universe, where his other self put the fear of God into bad people and fought crime as The Arrow, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting the hang of things as well as realizing the roles that everyone played within the unit that was Team Arrow.

Diggle, in Oliver’s absence, was the leader of the bunch. He was the one with the most experience when it came to being in the field, having been the first person Oliver had trusted with his secret. From the little bit of information the older man had shared, it had been a life-or-death situation forcing Oliver’s hand to reveal himself to Digg.  Once the initial hurdle had been crossed, there was no turning back for the former soldier.

Felicity Smoak, MIT class of ‘09, resident babbler and genius, had been the second person to join in the crusade to save the city. Oliver would be lying if he said some of the things she did with her computers were anything short of miraculous. He had barely seen her at work, he knew, but her skill with hacking and keeping the team safe was remarkable, just like the woman herself. She was beyond smart, but kind and beautiful, too. The heart of the team was left at the command center every night, sitting pretty in her computer chair/throne while her heroes went out and caught the bad guys. Something they couldn’t have done without her direction.

Roy and Thea had been the latest additions to the team, or at least to the players that actually went out there and put their lives at risk, since Tommy was also part of Team Arrow in his own way. As Arsenal and Speedy, the duo was quite the unstoppable force. He could understand Roy’s decision to join the team. The Arrow had saved him from a lunatic, inspiring Roy to fight for the Glades.  Oliver had taken him in, honing the raw power Roy already had and forging him into a better man.

The hardest part was getting his head around his little sister being involved in all of this.  But then again, this wasn’t bohemian chic Thea, with her poet friends and her zest for life.  Even though this wasn’t his Thea, Oliver was still uneasy when it came to knowing she was going out there, leaping into the middle of the fray and risking her life and limb.  It was the moment Felicity had shown him a video of Speedy and Arsenal, fighting side by side, that he got it. Thea was good; she was really good and with Roy never far away from her, the duo of red archers was just as formidable as their green counterpart.

“Aha! Roy, can you give me a hand with this?”

He had been so caught up in his musings, he hadn’t noticed Felicity digging through one of the dark corners of the foundry. The young man in the red hoodie didn’t miss a beat, lowering his carton of food to the metal table in front of him and moving into the darkness, to aid her with her find.

The moment reminded Oliver of when Roy had taken out the case with the bow. Only this time the duo came over carrying a battered old wooden chest, one that had obviously seen better days. Once the heavy item was on top of a different metal table, Felicity pulled open the lid and smiled.

“Oliver took the Arrow 2.0 suit with him when he left with Sara, so you get to wear the old suit.  But this is a secret, I kinda like this one better,” Felicity said with a smile as she pulled out a green leather jacket with an equally dark green hood attached to it.

Leaving his food behind, Oliver walked over to the smiling blonde, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she wiggled the fabric at him.

“The wood chest with appropriate vigilante attire that you requested, Mr. Queen?” she teased, biting her lower lip in an attempt to tame down her smile.

Before he could control his features, he felt one of his eyebrows quirking up in reply.  The idea of Felicity teasing him, the sound of her calling him ‘Mister Queen’ under different, far from platonic circumstances, flashed through his brain and made his heartbeat pick up a bit.

“Are they doing the thing? Because it looks to me like they’re doing the thing.”  Roy’s voice was an unwanted interloper, the interruption solidified when Roy stepped between Felicity and Oliver, reaching into the trunk to pull out a pair of leather pants and black boots.  He pushed them into Oliver’s chest. “Time to try on the super suit.”

The message was clear. Put your hands behind your head and step away from the blonde.

Oblivious to the tension radiating from Roy, Felicity draped the leather jacket over Oliver’s left shoulder and patted him lightly on the chest. 

“Go on and try it on for size,” she said, apparently not giving the touch or Roy’s interruption a second thought before moving back towards her computers. 

Even though the prospect shouldn’t have appealed to him that much, considering this was very much like the first night and how he’d had to borrow some clothes from the closet of this universe’s Oliver, he couldn’t really help it.  This was the moment where he’d actually step into the other man’s persona.  See if he could take up the mantle of the hero. And the little boy within, that part of him which hadn’t been allowed to come out to play for decades, too smothered under all of the very real pressure of adulthood, was ecstatic.

Turning on his heel, Oliver made his way to the small bathroom and closed the door behind himself. Changing into the costume didn’t take more than a few minutes, but as soon as he was done tying the laces on the boots, he stood before the mirror and the gravity of the situation truly hit him. The man looking back at him, from the glossy surface, was not Oliver Queen. It was someone else. 

Something else. 

Lifting his shoulders, he rolled them a few times, getting used to the feeling of the leather get-up. Leather had never been one of his choices, not even when he was wild child Ollie Queen, but now, looking at himself in the mirror, with the hood still pooled at the back of his neck and the green covering his whole body, he could feel a change within. He had thought the costume, the so-called super suit, was ridiculous when he had seen Thea’s on the mannequin, when he saw Roy and Barry wearing them, but this moment truly opened his eyes. This suit of green wasn’t a costume.

It was armor.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Oliver walked to the metal tables, allowing the light to bathe him in its brightness, while taking in the team’s reactions.

Roy, Thea and Diggle fell silent when he approached, their eyes widening considerably as they took him in. 

“Oh, wow.” Thea’s statement of delight made all of this even more palpable. “Ollie, you look . . .”

“Just like him,” Roy finished for her, his jaw clenching shut right afterwards--though not in anger, Oliver thought.

That’s when Oliver realized it.  Dressed like this, he looked just like the man who saved Roy. This was more than some sort of twisted blast-from-the-past situation for the young man. Dressed as he was, Oliver represented hope, change and so many other things for everyone in this room.  It was almost overwhelming. He had never, not once, truly meant so much to anyone.

“Just one more thing, for now,” Felicity said, approaching him from the bank of computers with a big smile on her face.

Out of the whole group, she seemed to be the only one that wasn’t at all surprised that he not only could wear the suit, but also seemingly stepped into the persona that was the Arrow. Before he knew what was happening, she was by his side, attaching a small device to the inside of his leather jacket before zipping the garment again.  She pressed on his chest lightly; he can only imagine the last motion was to turn the device on. Pulling on his shoulder while going on her tiptoes, she whispered something in his ear.  Oliver turned to look at her with an arched brow.

“Say it like you mean it,” she prompted him, with a few nods of her head and a gleeful look in her blue eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he allowed the anger of the whole situation, along with some of the frustrations that he carried from his real life, to create an amalgam of emotions within him that made his eyes go dark and his posture straighten.

“You. Have. Failed. This. City.”  His voice carried throughout the space of the lair, the device on his jacket making his voice unrecognizable and gravelly.

“Holy shit,” Roy breathed out, only for anything else that he or anyone wanted to say to be cut short by shrill beeping from the computers.

End, Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot happening in this chapter--we think it’s all great stuff and we hope you agree. So fasten those seat belts!

 

“That’s not good.”  Felicity left his side in a flash and then everyone was moving all at once.

Diggle went for the cabinet where his guns were kept, while Roy and Thea moved towards the glass cases with the mannequins and their weapons. Oliver followed them, already dressed in his suit but picking up the bow he’d been training with, along with the quiver that he strapped to his body in record time. 

“Slade!” The terror in Felicity’s voice made Oliver’s heart squeeze within his chest, but there was no time to do anything more.

The side door of the foundry blew up, the debris shooting into the lair, the force of the blast knocking down the retreating Felicity to the floor. Thea was there, quick as a whip, helping the blonde up and moving them both as far away from the door as she could, while holding her bow and the dazed woman.

Roy fell into position on Oliver’s left and Diggle stood by his right, both of them with weapons at the ready. The most surprising part was that he had also raised his bow and already had an arrow ready to fly.

The smoke from the explosion gave way to something out of a nightmare. The man stepping into the lair with the practiced stance of a soldier was not exceedingly tall, but what he might lack in height, he made up in bulk. The black uniform that looked like fatigues, the weapons strapped to his person and the two-toned black and orange mask: it all combined to give him the look of a bad dream come to life.

He stepped over the debris that used to be the door with sure, almost graceful steps.  The moment he was inside he looked around, his head moving slowly, as if all of the people pointing weapons at him were no threat at all. 

To Oliver’s surprise, the man lifted his hands to his head and removed the mask. He was just like the picture Felicity had shown him. Tanned skin, eye patch, salt-and-pepper hair, the one dark eye burning with hatred.  A hatred directed towards the man he thought Oliver was.

“Nice place you’ve got here, kid.” His voice was deep, gravel crunching against gravel that sent a shiver down Oliver’s spine. “Gone back to the sleeves, I see…”

“I got cold,” Oliver found himself spitting out involuntarily, grinding his teeth afterwards at the sound of his altered voice. “What do you want?”

“I made you a promise, kid,” the man said, tilting his head and glancing towards the side, as if there was someone beside him who was talking to him.  When his dark eye landed once again on Oliver, he smirked cruelly. “I keep my promises,” he said, simply and cryptically.  In what seemed like one motion, Slade pulled one of the round containers off the strap over his chest and threw it towards their feet.  

The flash of light, along with the loud crack and the cloud of smoke, blinded Oliver momentarily.  The disorientation reminded him of when he had arrived in this universe with Barry. He kept his bow high, though, not lowering the already nocked arrow so he could release it at any moment. Panic struck when he realized the male team members were no longer standing next to him.  No, they had moved as a unit, separating in order to get at the madman before them.

Diggle’s shots rang out like bells of doom in the space, before the loud collision of body on body rattled through the lair. Silence followed for a moment then Roy was yelling, grunting, fighting. The smoke covered too much for Oliver to see what was going on, but there was no mistaking the sounds that filtered through the haze.  Along with his harsh breathing and the pounding of his blood, it combined into a disorientating cacophony of noise. He whirled around, trying to find something he recognized, something that wasn’t shrouded by smoke--something that would guide his way. A clearing in the smoke made Oliver move without a second thought.  He knew that standing still, he was a sitting duck and he could not help the team if he was taken out.

Moving through the smoke proved difficult but he managed, finding himself close to one of the glass cases. The smoke ebbing and flowing around the lair was growing dimmer and he could see four bodies engaged in hand-to-hand combat at the very eye of the storm. He made one step towards the fray before he had to dodge to the side, ducking out of the way as a body came flying through the air. Watching the progress of the body, his blood chilled in his veins. Thea was the projectile he dodged.  She crashed through one of the glass cases, landed hard and crumpled.  Her hair fluttering over her face was the only sign she was still breathing.

For the moment it took to bend down and check her pulse, Oliver didn’t breathe himself.  And in that moment, the grim reality he had been told about became brutally true.  This was why the team needed their Oliver.  Because of Slade--this man, this monster. 

Oliver was up on his feet and back into the dissipating smoke before he could think better of it. Anger was riding his veins like quicksilver. Roy and Diggle were fighting Slade, using the same kind of moves and strategies they had used when they had sparred with Oliver.  But Slade looked like he already knew all their moves.  He was dodging and parrying blows as if it was all part of a stage play and he was the hero.

He joined in on the fight, but the moment he did, Slade became even better than he was before.  There was no more playing around.  Slade’s hand connected solidly, palm first, on Roy’s chest after dodging a blow from the young man.  Roy went flying, literally, back through the smoke and out of sight, followed by the unmistakeable sound of something heavy hitting metal. Oliver couldn’t pause to check on Roy, though. The fight was down to Diggle and himself, against the man with more strength than any man should have, and they weren’t gaining any ground. 

His body was burning with the effort of meeting Slade’s attacks, and his mind was too focused on countering and blocking to figure out how Slade could be this strong, this powerful.  Then Diggle was shoved back by Slade, meeting one of the pillars of the lair with a sickening crunch.  Which left Oliver and Slade facing each other. 

The older man was giving him a look like the one Barry had given him, his dark eye drinking him in, studying him. Like Slade sensed something off about him.  Oliver couldn’t let him see the truth.  It was up to him to keep the secret going. So he attacked, swinging his arm out, trying to use the bow as a club, and off they went, resuming their fight as if it had always been just the two of them.

For every inch he gained in the fight, he seemed to lose two. The soldier lazily dodged some of his attacks, using his forearms and legs to block.  Other hits were allowed to connect with his body, even though they seemed to have the same effect as a fly swatter on a rhino. It made a fleeting thought race through Oliver’s brain as yet another blow was just as ineffective as all the others: was he having any impact on Slade?  

He couldn’t give up though. Oliver put every single ounce of his will power into his swings, using his bow, grabbing arrows to stab any weak points, using the full bulk of his body to attack.  Nothing worked.  He stopped and tried to take a shot with the bow, aiming straight at Slade’s heart. His shot went wide, the arrow lodging itself into one of the pillars instead of the flesh of his enemy.

He missed. He. Fucking.  _ Missed _ !

The disbelief in the one gleaming dark eye that watched him was evident.  Oliver had to force his body to shake off the shock and go back to hand-to-hand combat immediately; there was no way he could let the other man think too much about Oliver missing his shot.

“Don’t forget who taught you how to fight, kid,” Slade said gruffly.

Apparently having grown bored of his cat-and-mouse game, Slade moved as fast as lightning, grappling with him until Oliver was on his knees, his shoulder almost over-extended and threatening to pop out of its place. Then, as if disgusted, Slade backhanded him, with enough force to send Oliver sailing. 

The landing was hard, concrete painfully meeting his aching shoulder. The silence around him was only disturbed by slowly-approaching footsteps. Turning on his back, Oliver pushed up onto his elbows, even if it hurt like a bitch, watching the enemy stalk towards him.

“Then again, you never were too bright,” he said, tapping his own temple.  Then he growled, his eye narrowing.  “There’s something different about you.  Why’s that?” 

He was standing only a few feet away from Oliver, unsheathing one of the swords strapped to his back, with a metallic swish.  The fact that this was the first time the man had even reached for a weapon, having stuck to hand-to-hand up to this moment, was nerve-wracking.  Slade had taken everyone out with just his body. The man himself was the weapon but this? This sword coming into play spelled finality.

“No matter,” the man mused, lifting the sword over his head, holding the hilt with both hands. 

“Stay. Away. From. Him!” 

The feminine voice cut through the lair like a klaxon, making the man with the sword pause and move his gaze away from his intended prey. Oliver couldn’t help it--he knew he should have moved out of the way at this chance--but he found his gaze searching for the speaker. 

Felicity Smoak, all five foot nothing in height, with her bubble gum pink sundress and her turquoise high heels, stood defiantly, a massive grenade launcher in her arms, shouldered just right. Her glasses were askew on the bridge of her nose, there were strands of hair hanging loose from her usual neater-than-neat curled ponytail, and there were bleeding scratches on her arms and face from the earlier explosion.  

To Slade, she probably looked like a joke.

To Oliver, she looked beautiful.  Brave.  Like a hero.

“Ah . . . the forlorn sidekick.” Slade offered with a sneer, lowering his working eye to the grenade launcher she carried. “Are you going to waste your weapon on me too, little one?”

“I won’t say it again,” she snarled, her hands as steady as a surgeon’s. “Get. Away. From. Him.  _ Now _ .”

The words were obviously meant for Slade, but it was Oliver who took heed. Oliver who rolled from the prone position he had been in, using the distraction of Felicity to get away and come back to his feet.  He lifted his bow once again and aimed an explosive arrow at the man a few feet away. He was two seconds away from death, Slade was going to kill him without a second thought.  What was the harm in using one of the arrows he had been told to avoid?

“You’ve got fire in you, Miss Smoak,” Slade said, returning the sword to its sheath while studying the little blonde with far more interest than Oliver would have liked.   “You,” the gruff man said, sounding almost tender towards the blonde, “you possess true courage.”   

His dark eye glittered as he took her in, before his gaze shifted back to Oliver. “I’m truly sorry she couldn’t pass that onto you, Oliver,” he added, pulling another smoke bomb and throwing it at the ground.

Yet again, they were blinded momentarily.  Lost in the gray smoke, Oliver felt hands on his arm, little soft hands that he immediately knew.  Instinct took over and he dropped the arrow from his bow so he could hold Felicity against him as they both stumbled back, towards the other end of the foundry. 

It took a few minutes for the smoke to clear, both of them waiting on pins and needles for an attack that never came. Once the smoke lifted and the realization that Slade Wilson was now gone sunk in, it came as both a much-needed respite and a silent threat. He could have had continued his attack. They would have been sitting ducks, his for the taking.  The fact that he could’ve killed them so easily made Oliver tremble with anger. 

The feeling was directed both at himself, for his ineffectiveness, and at the team’s Oliver, for leaving them alone and unprotected in a moment so pivotal.

He knew that he he had been a selfish bastard in his day, but this Oliver, the team’s Oliver--to him, he seemed like an even more self-centered jerk than he had ever been and that was saying a lot.  What the hell was he doing, running all over the planet with his ex (because Oliver had definitely gotten the vibe that Sara Lance, whoever she was, had been involved with this universe’s Oliver) and abandoning the people he claimed to care about so much? The same people he wouldn’t even be seen with in public?

Felicity was the first to react, placing the grenade launcher she had shouldered so expertly on the floor.  Then she scurried towards the one of the upturned med tables and the body who was draped halfway across it. 

“Roy!”

Her voice shook Oliver out of his self-loathing tailspin and he found himself moving, remembering to tap his chest once to turn off the voice modulator as he walked, only stopping when he came to stand above the body of his sister . . . well, his alternate universe sister. Kneeling by her, he checked her pulse yet again and once he found it strong and steady he let out a long sigh of relief.  She was all right.  At least, she would be.  

Although he couldn’t remember how he knew it, Oliver realized he wasn’t supposed to move her.  But he couldn’t help himself. Thea looked like a rag doll, thrown aside haphazardly by a petulant child. Setting his bow down, he picked up the slight form into his arms and carried her to one of the med tables that was still upright.

“How is he?” he asked Felicity, motioning towards the young man whose head she was now cradling in her lap.

The blue eyes that gazed into his were clouded with a swirl of panic, fear and anger.

“Out cold but nothing’s broken, I don’t think,” she replied, sadly.  

A grunt from a few feet away had him turning away from Felicity. John Diggle was grotesquely crumpled against one of the support pillars and for a moment Oliver felt his stomach drop. What if, in his haste to prove that he could be just as good as their Oliver, he had shot an arrow and hurt one of the team without meaning to? A quick inspection of Digg showed no signs of an arrow sticking out of him--yet that didn’t mean Digg was uninjured.  The man’s shoulder was obviously out of its proper place and another low grunt of pain came from him as he arranged himself gingerly into a more comfortable position. His eyelids were barely open but Diggle raised the hand on his good arm to rub his face.

“I really hate that guy,” he muttered, as Oliver knelt by his side. “Everyone else OK?” he asked.

“Felicity is fine, Thea and Roy are both unconscious,” Oliver explained.

The man heaved a long and heavy sigh at that.  “In the words of our Oliver, I guess we didn’t die. Cool.”  Digg snorted at his own joke before grimacing in pain. “Now’s a good time to call Tommy and that nurse girlfriend of his.”

XXX

To Oliver’s surprise, Tommy had some first aid experience.  While his girlfriend Charlie effortlessly got Digg’s shoulder back into the socket and diagnosed Roy with a concussion, Tommy began applying disinfectant to cuts and ice packs to bruises, from the well-stocked medical supplies in the lair.  

“Picked it up while I was rehabbing my leg,” Tommy explained after noticing Oliver’s confused expression.  “And she might be a nurse, but Charlie likes playing doctor.”  

Charlie, a statuesque woman with red, curly hair, shot Tommy a look.  “Watch it, Merlyn.”  But the smile she gave Tommy was so warm, her brown eyes dancing with happiness, Oliver knew her disapproval was just an act.

His sister grimaced, although it wasn’t clear if it was from Tommy’s joke or Charlie removing some glass from her arm.  “Gross,” Thea said.  “Thank God I didn’t get the genes for bad sex jokes.”  

“But they go hand-in-hand with the devastating looks, sis,” Tommy said, pulling off a pair of latex gloves as he finished up.  

Oliver blinked.  “Sis?”  He looked back and forth between Tommy and Thea, then pushed off from the metal table he had been sitting on.  

Felicity appeared at his side, one of her hands wrapping around his forearm.  “Oliver--”  

“No,” he snapped, pulling his arm free.  “I want to know what’s going on.  I haven’t asked any questions about pretty much anything, but this? I think I deserve to know what Tommy meant calling Thea ‘sis’.”  

“Ollie,” Tommy said, holding his hands up in the air.  “I thought you knew--I thought someone would have told you--”  Tommy glanced over at Thea, who looked equally sheepish and defiant.

“There was so much else going on, so many things for you to find out,” Thea said, shifting a little.  “I didn’t think it would matter . . .”

A ball of disbelief and fear and anger settled in Oliver’s stomach.  “Then tell me now,” he said, his voice sounding not at all like his own.  

Thea let out a slow breath.  “Mom had an affair with Malcolm Merlyn.  It was brief, but long enough to produce yours truly.  We all found out about six months ago that Tommy and I are half-siblings.”  

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.  How could they have kept this from him?  When they knew how important Thea was to him?  Being a good brother, having Thea as his sister--that was one of the few things he was proud of.  And Thea had told him that their parents were dead, had made him think she was all alone and had no other family!

Slowly, Oliver let his eyes sweep over the people in the room.  Noticing how most of them wouldn’t look him in the eye.  Only Charlie and Felicity were able to look right at him.  

And it was to Felicity that he asked his question.  “What else haven’t you told me?”  

Diggle stepped forward, falling into place beside Felicity.  “If you have questions you want to ask, Oliver, ask them and we’ll answer them.  Any time you wanted to ask them, we would have told you the truth,” he said quietly, calmly.  Like he was trying to handle Oliver, which annoyed him even more.  

“Don’t try and tell me to calm down, Digg,” Oliver said, not looking away from Felicity.  Noticing every flicker of her eyes, every swallow, every deep breath.  

“I’m not,” Digg said.  “So ask your questions.”  

“Where the hell is the other Oliver?  And who’s this Sara that he’s with?  And how could Slade knock us around like a bunch of Tinkertoys?”

The anger in his voice was clear and obvious.  Oliver saw how everyone exchanged looks, but they didn’t seem surprised.  More like they were expecting him to yell and lose his temper.  Because of the other Oliver, maybe?  Gritting his teeth, Oliver tried to push the anger down inside himself.  He might look like their Oliver, but he wasn’t him.  And he was damned if he was going to let these people think that he was like that arrogant, neglectful asshole.  

Tommy gestured from behind Felicity.  “Charlie and I are going to get out of here.  Ollie, if you wanna talk to me--”

“Later, Tommy.  Thanks for the help.  Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Oliver said, glancing at the doppelganger of his best friend for a moment before returning his attention to Digg and Felicity.

There was a clatter as Tommy and Charlie left the lair, leaving just the full-time members of Team Arrow and Oliver.

“It’s a long story, but basically, Oliver is taking a businessman's holiday,” Felicity said, folding her arms over her chest.  “A working vacation.  We all thought he could use a change of scenery for a little while, and Sara had a situation she needed his help with.”  

“Sara is Laurel’s sister,” Thea contributed.  “She . . . she was with you--I mean, she was with Ollie on the island.”  

Nodding slowly, Oliver found some pieces falling into place.  “Oliver doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to take a vacation,” he stated.  “So why now?”  

Felicity and Diggle exchanged looks, but it was Roy who spoke.  “Because Oliver’s crazy about Laurel, but he can’t get over himself and be with her.”  

“Roy--” Felicity began, but the younger man scoffed.  

“I know you’re gonna defend him, Felicity, but c’mon.  If Oliver had made a move, Laurel never woulda taken that job in Ivy Town, and he wouldn't have been moping around here so much, we had to get Sara to take him away and give us a break from the angst.”

“That . . . that’s not the only reason Oliver is with Sara, and you know it, Roy,” Felicity argued.  

Oliver’s brows drew together as he tried to figure out the unspoken currents in the room.  Digg held up a hand and the conversation immediately stopped.  

“Another reason Oliver is with Sara is because they’re working to find a way to defeat Slade,” Diggle told Oliver.  “Slade is as strong as he is, because when he was on the island with Oliver, he got dosed with something called mirakuru.”  

Mirakuru . . . what the hell was that?  It sounded vaguely Japanese, but sort of how Spanglish sounded a little bit Spanish.  

“It’s the reason Slade is how he is,” Felicity continued.  “So Oliver went with Sara because she has access to certain technology, things we can’t get here and now, in order to find a cure Slade.  To bring him down to a normal human’s level.” 

Felicity shot Roy a look.  “It’s not about Laurel.”

“It is,” Roy said stubbornly.  “Oliver needs to man up.  If you love someone, nothing should stand in your way.”    

“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” Digg said quietly, sounding like he might have some personal experience with that problem.  It made Oliver glance at him, wondering what his story was.  

Thea reached over and took Roy’s hand.  “And sometimes, love is all you need.”  She turned and looked at Oliver.  “I love my brother, but he’s scared of losing everything he has.  So he’s a bit gun-shy when it comes to relationships.  And given how he’s hurt Laurel over the years . . .”  

His sister paused, then sighed.  “I think it’s best that he moves on.  So we hoped this trip might help him get that started.  Get him out of Starling City, let Sara try and talk some sense into him while they also worked on the Slade problem.  She knows him in a way none of us do.  We just didn’t think it would take this long.”  Thea shrugged and tried to smile.  “I guess Ollie is being stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, us Oliver Queens are stubborn,” Oliver said, trying to make a bit of a joke.  Trying to remember these people didn’t deserve his anger.  Yes, they had held back on some information, but with how much there was for him to learn--and now that he had thought about it a little--he could kind of see their point.  

But, he made a mental note for himself, no more silent observation.  He was going to keep asking questions.  Not because he doubted the team, but because . . . they looked at him and saw Oliver.  Their Oliver.  Even after starting to know him, they still saw the Oliver they were used to.  And he didn’t want that.  He wanted them to see  _ him _ .  

Oliver found his eyes resting on Felicity.  She was perhaps the biggest puzzle of all.  A puzzle he wanted to figure out.  Because she was so loyal to her Oliver, yet she had been so nice to him, but . . . he didn’t want her to be nice to him.  

There was so much more he wanted from Felicity than just ‘nice’.

Felicity ran her hands over her hair, smoothing back the hair escaping her ponytail.  “Look, it’s late.  I say we leave the clean-up until tomorrow and focus on getting some sleep.  God knows I need it--I have to make an appearance at QC in the morning.”

“I can come with you,” Oliver volunteered.  “If you want.”  

Her face brightened like someone had just offered her ice cream when she needed it most.  “Would you?  It could make a big difference if the word got to Isabel that you were there.  It’s like pulling teeth to get Oliver to go to QC lately.  I mean, when he’s here.  Now that he’s not here, it’s been a lot harder to get him to show up, obviously.”  She pushed her glasses up and took a breath.  “Why don’t we meet at QC around ten?”

“What’s the normal routine?” he asked, an idea coming to him.  “I mean, if you want to throw Isabel off the scent, it’s probably best that everything looks normal.”  

“Normal isn’t something we have a lot of around here,” Digg said with amusement.  “But normally, I’d drive Oliver to the office and we’d meet Felicity there.”  

“Sounds good,” Oliver said, standing up.  “I’ll see you at nine.”  

Digg huffed out a laugh and Felicity’s eyes widened.  “Wow, we’re lucky if Oliver gets in before eleven,” she commented with a laugh.  

“Well, I’m not that Oliver,” he said firmly before turning to Thea.  “Are you ready to go, Speedy?”  

“Yep, yep, I’m good,” Thea said, easing off the table she was sitting on.  “C’mon, Roy, you’re coming home with me.  And no arguing, from either of you,” Thea insisted, looking back and forth between her boyfriend and her alt-brother.  “With that concussion, Roy needs someone to wake him up every few hours.”  

“That’s fine with me,” Oliver said lightly.  Already, he was considering the possibility of pumping Roy for some more information.  The young man seemed to be the only one who was willing to talk about this universe’s Oliver without holding back.  As much as Roy looked up to his mentor, he also seemed to see Oliver clearly.  

He waited until Thea and Roy were shuffling towards the door before looking at Felicity.  “Are you okay to get home?”  

With a small nod and a smile, she gave him a little wave.  “Go, I’m fine. Digg will give me a ride.”  

“After I put up some plywood to secure this place,” Digg interjected.  

Oliver nodded and looked at Felicity, who smiled at him.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Nine sharp,” he promised, meaning it with every fiber of his being.  

Tomorrow, he would walk into Queen Consolidated and be what was needed right now.  A CEO who could head off the woman who was trying to take over the company.  Tonight, though, he had some work to do.  He needed to finish researching Isabel and find the chinks in her armor.  He was hoping he could talk some to Roy.  

And maybe . . . he might think about why Felicity was starting to matter so much to him.

XXX

With a light knock, Oliver poked his head into Thea’s room.  It was just past midnight, and after studying the files on Isabel, he was ready for bed--but not before checking on his sister and her boyfriend.  

“Speedy?” he said softly, before seeing her asleep next to an awake Roy.  

The younger man smirked a little.  “So much for her checking up on me.”  

“Yeah,” Oliver said, stepping into the room, his hands in his pockets.  “How are you feeling?”  

“Okay--it’s not the first time I’ve gotten hit in the head,” Roy replied with a shrug.  “I woulda been fine at my place, but Thea . . . she worries.”  

There was such clear affection and love in his voice, Oliver had to smile.  Roy Harper might not be the kind of young man that Moira Queen would want her daughter to fall in love with, or that Oliver wanted for his baby sister.  But he couldn’t deny how obvious it was that Roy would do anything for Thea.

Oliver picked up a straight backed chair and brought it over towards the bed.  “I am glad you came home with Thea and me tonight, because . . . because I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”  He set the chair down and took a seat by Roy’s side of the bed.  

It was hard not to laugh at how Roy stiffened, his eyes flicking towards Thea.  “Look, I know I might not be the kind of guy you’d imagine for your sister--”

“No, it’s not about that,” Oliver said, wondering if he was so transparent that Roy could read his mind.  “No, I was just wondering . . . about this trip that the other Oliver is on . . .”  

“Oh, that,” Roy said with a roll of his eyes.  “Believe me, we were all glad to let Sara knock some sense into him.  Literally.  She can fight almost as well as he can, so maybe her staff hitting him a few times in the head would jar his brains loose.  And like Felicity said, she does know him, since she was with him on the island and all that.”  

Oliver pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.  “And she’s helping him with this mirakuru stuff?”  

A change came over the young man, his shoulders hunching at the mention of the word ‘mirakuru’.  “Yeah.  Because I took the only sample we had.”  

What?  Oliver blinked.   _ Roy  _ had been given mirakuru?  

Roy ran his hands through his hair.  “I don’t know all the details--only Oliver does, really.  But like Digg said, mirakuru is why Slade is the way he is.  It’s some weird magic potion that Oliver and Sara gave Slade on the island.  It saved his life--but made him crazier than a bag of cats and gave him super-strength to boot.”  

Leaning back in his chair, Oliver took in this new information.  Why hadn’t he realized this before?  That Slade’s abilities had to have been enhanced in some way?  Yes, this mirakuru sounded like something out of a movie or a comic book, but still--it made sense with how Slade had played with all of them, not even breaking a sweat in slapping them down.  Yet what did Slade and what had happened to him on the island have to do with Roy?  

Maybe this was the drawback to asking questions: you asked one and got an answer, but that answer created two more questions.  

“So that’s why Slade is upset with the other Oliver?  Because of what happened on the island?” Oliver asked.  

“I guess,” Roy said, sounding uncomfortable.  “All I know is that he showed up, gunning for Oliver in any way possible.  Which included grabbing people from the Glades and shooting them up with the same stuff he had been given.  Including me.”  

There was something haunted in Roy’s voice, a despair in his blue eyes as he stared off into space.  Something that made Oliver reach out and rest his hand on his shoulder.  Roy didn’t react to his touch, but he started talking.

“Oliver had gotten a sample of Slade’s blood.  Cisco and Caitlin, from Barry’s team, used it to come up with a cure, but there was only one dose.  Oliver had it all planned, how he was going to administer it to Slade, that way we’d be able to take him down without much collateral damage.  And then, Slade got the drop on me and shot me up with Mirakuru. Oliver gave me the cure instead.”  

“Of course he did,” Oliver said quietly.  “There was no choice to make.”  

Roy snorted, which strangely reassured Oliver.  Because it meant Roy was back.  “Ha.  Oliver said that once.  Although it was to Felicity.  He’s such an idiot, he doesn’t even realize that Felicity is a thousand times better for him than Laurel.”  

It was on the tip of his tongue to use this perfect opportunity to ask Roy about the other Oliver and his relationship with Felicity.  To ask why everyone kept warning him away from her.  But suddenly, Oliver didn’t want to know.  Didn’t want to make it clear just how interested he was in Felicity.

If there was anyone who should know he was interested in Felicity, it should be her.  

Rising to his feet, Oliver nodded to Roy.  “Get some more sleep.  There’s a lot of work to do in the lair tomorrow.”  

With a nod, Roy leaned back against the pillows.  Oliver had nearly gotten to the door when he heard Roy’s voice.  “Hey, Oliver?”  

Turning around, Oliver looked back at the young man in his sister’s bed.  “I don’t really know you,” Roy said, making Oliver step back slowly towards the bed.  “But . . . but I think you’ve been as much of a hero as Oliver--this universe’s Oliver--has been.  Because it takes a special kind of person to jump into all this and accept it.  So--so thanks,” Roy said quickly.  “Good night.”  

“Good night,” Oliver said, too speechless to say anything else.  The mood in the room was so awkward, he had to leave.  But once he was in the hall, the door closed behind him, Oliver grinned to himself.  

A hero.

XXX

“Felicity.”

“Yes?” 

“This is me, noticing you staring.”  

Oliver shifted, sitting in the backseat of a Bentley that wasn’t very dissimilar from the one his parents had in his universe.  He could feel Felicity’s eyes on him, and it . . . it made want to tug on his tie or check for spinach in his teeth.  He didn’t understand why she was staring at him, and it made him nervous.

“I--I know, I’m sorry, but that was just amazing, Oliver!”  Once the dam had burst, Felicity kept talking.  “I just can’t believe how you totally bitch-slapped Isabel!  Metaphorically speaking, I mean. You wouldn’t really hit a woman, obviously, unless she was a bad guy or something. And normally I don’t like using the term ‘bitch-slap’ because it’s demeaning, on so many levels.  But . . . there’s no other word to use for what you just did to Isabel, and it was amazing!  I already said amazing, I know, but--but how did you do that?”  

“I just used the information you got for me, Felicity,” Oliver said, smoothing a hand down his tie.  “Oh, good, we’re here.”  

Almost as soon as Digg stopped the car outside of Verdant, Oliver hopped out and headed inside, going to the secondary entrance to the lair.  He was very ready to change out of his suit and into some casual clothes.  To do his part to clean up after Slade’s attack--something that felt like real work, not what he had done earlier to Isabel.  

“Gotta say, it was nice seeing Isabel get put into her place,” Digg said quietly as they walked down the stairs.  “Maybe you could teach Oliver something, if he shows up before you leave.”

Thea, dressed in tight jeans, a floaty top, and high-heeled boots, looked up when they arrived.  “Hey, how’d it go?”  She dumped some glass into a trashcan, then dusted her hands off on her jeans.

“Amazing!” Felicity said.  “You should have seen Oliver.  He totally kicked Isabel’s ass, all smooth and confident businessman.  Isabel had no idea what hit her.”  

Roy straightened up, holding a broom in his hand and dressed in the jeans and red hoodie he always seemed to wear.  “Wait, what?”

“All I did was use the data Felicity gathered to outthink Isabel,” Oliver said, sliding off his suit jacket.  “I’m going to change and then I can help with the cleaning.”  

As he changed into jeans and another plaid shirt--did this universe’s Oliver wear anything else?--Oliver wondered why it affected him so much, hearing all the praise.  After all, for the last year, he had wanted to get some validation for his work as a businessman.  And while it wasn’t coming from his parents, in a way it meant more coming from Digg and Felicity.  But he felt so embarrassed at how much their praise mattered, he didn’t want to linger on it for too long and get distracted.  The small warm bubble of confidence he felt within his chest would inevitably be popped, though. That much he knew.

Oliver looked at himself in the mirror, running a hand over his hair.  The haircut was growing on him . . . maybe he would keep his hair like this when he went back.  

A soft knock on the door made him stop preening and open the door.  He felt his mouth go dry when he saw Felicity.  There was a glow in her eyes when she looked at him.  Combined with the dress she was wearing--a red one with a cutout right over her chest--she was a vision. 

“Hey,” Felicity said, her voice soft and a little bit shy.  “I--I wanted to apologize if you felt uncomfortable with all the gushing--I’m just so impressed with what you did, the work you put in and how you’re doing so much to save QC, to save this city, just because we asked you to.  So--thank you, Oliver.”  

Looking at her, hearing her words, Oliver felt something inside himself shift.  Like he was being given a look at a future he hadn’t realized he wanted, a future that could be his if he just reached out and didn’t let himself get trapped in his own head.  

Which was why he opened his mouth and said, “Felicity, would you like to have dinner with me?”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, then she smiled.  “Oliver, of course I’ll have dinner with you.  We should do something special tonight--get takeout for everyone from the fancy Chinese place, instead of doing Big Belly or that Chinese place that only gives you one wonton in your wonton soup.  I think we all need a pick-me-up after what happened with Slade.  That’s such a great idea!  Let’s keep it a secret, though, so it can be a surprise.”  

Oliver stared at her, his mouth falling open as he realized just how much Felicity had the wrong idea.  And the crushing disappointment that washed over him made him want to be anywhere but here right now.  

Because she didn’t want to go out with him.  Because he wasn’t  _ her  _ Oliver.    

Using everything he had, Oliver smiled. His trademark ‘Oliver Queen’ smile was easy enough to call up.  “Great--great idea, yeah.  Um, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go get some air, okay?  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  

A little wrinkle appeared between Felicity’s eyebrows.  “Oh.  Okay.  Sure, you must be feeling antsy after this morning.  Go take a walk, get some fresh air--we’ve got everything handled here.”  She gave him a little mock punch in the shoulder, a punch that had all the force of a kitten batting a ball of yarn.  “But then, we’re gonna get to work on our Isabel and Slade problems, you hear me?”  

Nodding, Oliver edged past Felicity, desperate to get away before he said something even more stupid.  “Sounds like a da--a plan! Sounds like an excellent plan,” he blurted out, nearly saying ‘date’ and wanting a hole to open up underneath him.  “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”  

With that, he hurried out of the lair, not caring where he ended up.  Just needing a few moments alone, so he could lick his wounds in private.  To tell himself he had been warned about Felicity, and this was why he shouldn’t have ignored those warnings.  

End, Chapter Five  


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about the conclusion to that last chapter? Oliver asking Felicity out, Felicity misunderstanding him, and we all do the “If they would just talk to each other!” hokey-pokey. Well, since these are alternate universe Oliver and Felicity, get ready for something different . . . 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who’s been reading and commenting on this fic! We’re both so pleased y’all are hanging in there with us.

 

Thea Queen was many things: loyal, quick-witted, an awesome sister, a knowledgeable fashionista, and a pretty great girlfriend.  Yet above all else, Thea was observant.  Some would call it nosy, but Thea just liked knowing things.  That was indirectly how she had gotten the nickname of Speedy: in order to keep up with Oliver and see what he did, she had to go fast, since he had always been older and had longer legs than her.

She noticed things.  So when Oliver went running out of the lair like his pants were on fire, Thea paid attention.  And when Felicity came back, looking confused and worried, Thea noticed that, too.  Adding in Oliver and Felicity’s actions with everything else she had picked up on over the last few days . . . well, she was getting a picture of what kind of situation was developing.  

Roy glanced over at her.  “Hey, what’s wrong with Blondie?”  He jerked his head in Felicity’s direction, who was now sitting at her computers and listlessly tapping on the keyboard.  

Grabbing his arm, Thea pulled Roy over towards the far end of the lab, away from Felicity.  Thank God Digg had left to get an early lunch with Lyla, or else it would be even harder to talk this over without attracting Digg’s attention.  This situation was entirely too delicate for the blundering of the male Team Arrow members.  

“I think Oliver likes Felicity,” she said quietly, glancing towards Felicity and making sure she wasn’t listening.

Her boyfriend raised his eyebrows.  “You’re just now getting that?”

“No, of course not--he’s liked her from the moment he saw her,” Thea said with a huff.  “But I think something just happened and now things could go either way.  They could try to make a go of this, or it doesn’t come together.”

“We’ve been telling him to back off . . .” Roy said slowly.  “Me and Digg, at least.  If Oliver tried something and hurt Felicity’s feelings, we’re gonna have words.”  

“If anyone’s feelings got hurt, I think it was Oliver’s,” Thea replied.  “Look at how he left.  And look at how Felicity’s acting now.”  

Thea watched as Roy looked at Felicity, but his forehead was still wrinkled in confusion.  She shook her head, vindicated in her opinion but unhappy about that.  She would bet that Roy and Digg and even Tommy had probably warned Oliver off from Felicity.  They all wanted to protect her, which Thea understood.  Ollie did the same thing for her--and this other Oliver was doing a really good job of that, too.  But she bet those warnings had misfired, because even more than the connection that existed between Ollie and Felicity, there was  _ something  _ going on between the other Oliver and their IT support.

Eventually, Ollie was going to come back.  Perhaps this vacation wasn’t the only thing that would wake him up to what was right under his nose--maybe a good old fashioned case of jealousy would do the trick.  Oliver clearly liked Felicity, so to really get the ball rolling, Felicity probably needed a little push.

Or a big one, Thea conceded.  Given how Felicity felt about Ollie . . . it would be hard to get her to look at anyone else.  But maybe the whole identical appearance would help?  

Ugh, this was making her head hurt and she didn’t have time to waste on hemming and hawing.  She needed to know what had happened between Oliver and Felicity.  

“Just keep cleaning up and I’ll go talk with Felicity,” Thea told Roy.

“Don’t think I’m noticing how you’re skipping out on doing more work,” her boyfriend said, making her glare at him.  He let his eyes drop to her booties and then looked back at her, his eyebrow quirked in a challenging expression.

Okay, so maybe these weren’t the best shoes to wear for repairing a secret vigilante base, but they were new and cute.  Thea leaned in and kissed his cheek, and Roy shook his head but smiled at her as he hefted his broom and went back to work.  

Ambling over to Felicity’s desk, Thea took in her favorite blonde’s slumped shoulders and the little line between her eyebrows.  One arm was folded across her chest, while the other was extended to tap on the keyboard.  It was a picture of dejection, and Felicity shouldn’t have to feel like that.

“Hey, are you okay?  You look like someone just spilled a latte all over your computers and you didn’t have the money to replace them,” Thea said, dropping down into one of the other spinny chairs and moving closer to Felicity.

“Hm?” Felicity asked distractedly, before she looked over at Thea.  “Oh, I’m fine.  Just . . . I think I hurt Oliver’s feelings, but I don’t know how.”  

“Really?” Thea asked, using just the right mix of concern and casualness, a rich girl skill that was surprisingly handy amid her team of vigilantes.  “What happened?”

Felicity looked at Thea, chewing a little on her lower lip.  Thea gave her an encouraging smile and Felicity straightened up in her chair. 

“Maybe it was all my gushing over what he did with Isabel--but I couldn't help it.  You should have seen him, it was just the best thing ever.  It made me wish the security cameras at QC have audio, so I could just watch Oliver smack down Isabel whenever I need a pick-me-up.” Felicity shook her head.  “I think it must have been that, because I went to apologize for it, but then I ended up gushing more  _ and  _ thanking him, not to mention completely undercutting his nice gesture.  I'm the worst,” she finished, sounding disappointed in herself. 

Given how Oliver always seemed to be looking for Felicity’s approval, Thea doubted he had a problem with Felicity praising him.  But something Felicity said was niggling at Thea. 

“What nice gesture?”

Felicity waved a hand in the air.  “He asked me to get dinner with him, for ourselves and the rest of the team, and I completely forgot he has no money that’s his own, not really.  No one likes being reminded that they’ve got nothing--I never did when I was a kid.  But I stupidly suggested going to Jade Dragon for dinner, and you know how expensive that place is even if it was just the two of us, and of course we would be getting dinner for everyone.  Oliver realized I was talking about someplace fancy, so he decided he needed to be as far away from me as possible until he could figure out a way to tell me that he's broke.”

The broom clattered to the floor.  Both women turned to look at Roy, who was gaping at them. 

“Roy?  Are you okay?  Is it the concussion?  Maybe you shouldn't be working--”

“No!  No, I'm fine,” Roy said quickly, interrupting Felicity.  “Never mind me.”

He picked up the broom and started sweeping vigorously, but not before giving Thea a wide-eyed look of disbelief. 

Thea knew how he felt.  How could Felicity not see what had happened?  Oliver had asked her out--and she had turned it into a team dinner.  

For a genius, Felicity sometimes missed the simplest things.  Like when a guy liked her. 

“Felicity, I don't really think that's what happened.  Tell me exactly what Ollie--I mean, Oliver--what he said,” Thea requested. 

The line between Felicity’s eyebrows deepened.  “He said, “Felicity, would you go out to dinner with me?’ and I said--Oh, oh my God.”  

Leaning back in her chair, Thea smiled a little.  It would seem Felicity had finally caught up.  Thank God.  “He asked you out.”  

“He asked me out,” Felicity repeated, staring at Thea.  

Scooching her chair closer to Felicity, Thea leaned in, keeping her voice low, in deference to Roy who most definitely did want to know what was going on.  “Look, I know that things between you and Ollie are . . . not simple.  I know Ollie has a lot of unresolved feelings towards Laurel.  But this other Oliver?  He’s not like that.  And he likes you.  You hafta see that, right?”

Felicity nodded slowly, looking miserable.  “I must have hurt his feelings so much . . .”  

“Probably a little,” Thea agreed.  “So you know what you should do?”

“Find him using closed-circuit video cameras, so I can go and apologize to him?” Felicity asked, already turning in her chair towards her computers.

“I was going to say, figure out what you want from him, but yeah, that works,” Thea said, watching as Felicity went to work.

XXX

It took her a good ten minutes before she made it out of the foundry. Out of those ten, one was to double-check Oliver’s location on the map of Starling City she kept on her phone and the other was to gather up her purse.  The other eight?  They were were used to tamp down her urge to freak out and to give herself a pep talk. 

_ You can do this, Felicity. No need to overthink this. Just, talk, don’t babble. Explain. Everything will be fine . . . Everything will be just fine. You can totally do this. It’s just Oliver . . . sort of. _

At least the weather was helping make her feel more optimistic.  The day outside was very unusual for Starling City. Instead of the usual rain clouds masking the sky with grey, the blue of the sky was pristine in its clarity and the sun was high and warm, leaving no doubt that today, sunshine was the order of the day.  Which was more than she could say about herself.

Her monologue-like pep talk lasted her until she set foot in the park, where her search of Starling’s many closed-circuit cameras had revealed Oliver to be. Her heart rate picked up speed as soon as she saw him, sitting dejectedly against the trunk of a tree while staring blankly off into space. 

The fact that her heart was beating double time now made her pause and take a deep breath. She could do this. She absolutely could. It wasn’t the first time she was going to approach a broody Oliver. It was, however, the first time she was going to approach a broody Oliver that was broody partially because of something she had done. Or more accurately, something she had done without knowing she was doing it. Because how crazy was it that she had totally gotten the wrong context to that question of his? 

_ Don’t think about him asking you out on a date and how you messed up _ .  The words scrolled through her mind like an endless billboard in big bright flashing lights, Broadway style. In all honesty, there was nothing else she could think of right now, because she would have never had this problem with the team’s Oliver. Oh no. Not with him. 

She was very firmly planted in the ‘partner’ box by the original green leather-wearing vigilante of Starling City, so when Oliver had asked her out, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind as a possibility. That this Oliver, even though she knew the two parallel universes’ version of him were very different, could be interested in anything remotely close to that?  Yeah. Unthinkable. And so the ‘date debacle of 2014’ had happened. Which was a complete shame, because the more she considered things, even if the timing sucked and he  _ was  _ from another universe, the more she realized she liked this Oliver.

Shaking her head, she sighed heavily. For a genius, she could be terribly slow sometimes. First she crushed on a superhero who couldn’t see her and now she was opening her heart to a completely different kind of heartache.  After all, Oliver would be going back to his rightful universe in less than a week and where would that leave her? But then again, this wasn’t an everyday kind of relationship . . . so maybe . . . ? 

She wasn’t sure when her body decided to go to him.  It just did.  But she was surprised to find that her arrival didn’t go unnoticed, even though she approached him from behind. In fact, as soon as she came to a stop next to him he started talking. 

“Remember when I told you that this was my first vacation in a while?” he asked quietly, his knees drawn up towards his chest and his arms resting atop them.

“I do,” Felicity replied quietly.

“It’s been even longer since I’ve done something like this,” he admitted, motioning forward with one of his hands. “Spending the day at the park, just, sitting and watching what other people do with their spare time,” he said with a small shake of his head.  “It’s been years. Years since I was . . . allowed to do something that was so unproductive.”

Folding herself carefully into a sitting position, using the tree to rest against, she watched his profile as he spoke. She made sure to tuck her dress down, demurely, making sure she didn’t flash anyone as she sat down, keeping her knees together and her purse strategically set on the grass in front of her.  Their shoulders were only a few inches away from touching. 

“I don’t know about your Oliver, but I . . . I was a bit of a mess,” he said, a self deprecating chuckle punctuating his words. “Actually, I take that back. I was a big mess. Partying hard from the time I was fourteen, because my age didn’t matter. Only my money did. And since my parents were too busy with their own lives, they just kept the money flowing, especially when it could be used to sweep something under the rug.  For the sake of the family name.”

“Drugs, booze, girls--I could get my hands on anything.  Especially as soon as I got my license and a Porsche.”  He shook his head.  “I was a complete disaster. By the time I was in my early twenties, I was lucky to not be a drunk or a junkie.  And my parents were fed up. When they finally looked at me, all they saw was a failure.”

“Oliver--”

“So they did the only thing they could come up with. They threatened to cut me off if I didn’t clean up my act.  They sent me to a college that they bought off and I was watched twenty-four/seven.  Every minute of every day was accounted for.  There was no time for anything that didn’t fit into my parents’ guidelines.  There was no freedom: it was school, tutoring, meals--I added working out, which my parents didn’t object to.  It was the exact opposite of how I had lived my life before they put their foot down.”

He paused, gazing out at the people who were in the park, his eyes wistful.  “Surprisingly it helped. Before I knew it, I was back to dating the girl they’d always approved of, running the company the way they wanted me to, attending the functions that were deemed appropriate for me making an appearance at.  But the whole time, they still couldn’t see past the failure that was ‘Ollie’.”

“So I pushed myself even harder, made my life follow a far stricter regimen,” he said, turning his head to look at her. “The scruff was my only sign of rebellion, though I’m not sure if the ‘serial killer’ hair was appropriate by my parents’ standards,” he offered with a sad smile. “Thea, my Thea, she warned me that I was becoming like them but I hated failure so much . . . I still do.  I don’t want to be Ollie.  I want to be Oliver.  And then yesterday . . . ”

“Oliver,” she said with a shake of her head, placing her hand on his forearm. “You did not fail,” she offered and then winced, scrunching up her nose. “Well, technically you did. We all did. I mean, more than half the team ended up getting thrown around like rag dolls and the destruction levels in the foundry are considerable--not that I’m blaming you for that. I’m totally not. Slade is not a bad guy to sneeze at. And that just sounds wrong. Why would you sneeze at a bad guy? That saying makes no sense, whatsoever. Especially when the construct of the sentence involves the words ‘bad guy’. What I’m trying to say is . . . you did good.”  

“I did good?” he asked, shifting his position in order to face her. “Felicity, Roy has a concussion. Diggle had a dislocated shoulder and both Thea and you have cuts and bruises!”

“And considering the alternative, along with the fact you have only been training with the team for a few days, that is a big accomplishment. Huge, really,” she stated.  “Oliver, I don’t think you’re seeing yourself very clearly right now.”

“Is that so?” he asked, resting his head against the tree trunk, his blue eyes steady on hers.

“Let’s put things in perspective here,” Felicity offered, holding up one of her hands. “Just answer yes or no to the following questions,” she instructed.  “Did you get torn away from your own universe by a guy in a skintight red suit calling himself a speedster, who brought you to another Earth?”

“Felicity--”

“Yes or no, Oliver,” she warned, narrowing her eyes at him and pursing her lips to look stern.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“And did you or did you not adjust to the news that not only are multiple universes a thing, but also to the fact that superheroes are real?”

“Slightly under duress...but yes.”

“Smart ass,” she huffed with a bit of a smile before continuing. “And did you, or did you not decide, out of the goodness of your heart, that you would try to help the team because we were in desperate need of said help?”

“Yes but--” Oliver tried to argue, but Felicity wasn’t going to let him.

“No buts.” she said, holding up her hand. “That’s not the point. The point is that you did. What needs to be said here is that even though you were unsure it would work, you went for it anyways. You took the risk because you wanted to help. And then you went above and beyond by helping at QC.”

He opened his mouth, clearly meaning to contradict her, but Felicity kept going.  “By stalling Isabel’s attempts, you’ve made sure that thousands of people aren’t unemployed right now. Including me,” she reminded him, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.  “Oliver, you took to archery like a duck to water. And you are good. Really, really good. Plus, you trained with and then sparred, for hours, with not one, not two but with three superheroes. Spartan, Arsenal and Speedy, three of the most accomplished good guys in the city. You, Oliver Jonas Queen, went head to head with Isabel Rochev and shut her down. Not just down but _way_ down. Tail between her legs down, like a puppy. Not that I’m calling her a bitch. I would try my best not to ever do that, since I find it offensive in so many levels, especially comparing her to adorable puppies of the female variety . . .”

“Fe-li-cit-y.”  

How did he manage to make her name sound different?  Something about the way he emphasized each syllable . . . Felicity shook her head and tried to get back on track. 

“Sorry, sorry. What I’m trying to say is, you have done so many good things. So many amazing things in your short time here, and sure, there was this one set back, but if you factor that Slade is obviously Slade and he has the Mirakuru making him almost completely OP--which means Over Powered in geek speak--even for the other Oliver, then the odds are truly in your favor for the next time. It’s at least a seventy-five out of a hundred, really.  And that’s not a bad standing at all, if we’re talking stats.”

There was a long pause as Oliver seemed to digest this.  Then he licked his lips and said, “The fight with Slade . . . wasn’t the only thing I failed at.”  His gaze stayed locked on hers, like he was daring her to drop her eyes.

And . . . oh, crap.  He wanted to talk about asking her out?

“Oh . . . OH! Yeah . . . That. No. No!” she said, waving her hands and shaking her head in frustration as she tried to get the words out in some kind of order. “That was most definitely not you. Wait. No. Obviously, it _was_ you. The asking part of that whole deal, I mean. Yup, that was you. Not the failing part though. That was totally me,” she offered,  feeling a hot flame of heat starting on her cheeks.  She knew it would translate into a bright shade of pink that would not only cover her cheeks and the tips of her ears but would spread down her neck in an obvious blush. Curse her fair complexion and her ability to go ‘fire hydrant’ red at the drop of a hat.

So much for not thinking about the ‘date debacle of 2014’

“Felicity . . . ?”

“You haven’t been here long enough to know this, even though I’m sure you suspect it, since it is pretty obvious from the way I do pretty much everything.  There is always a lot going on in here,” she explained, touching her forehead with one of her forefingers. “So when you asked me if I wanted to have dinner, my brain was already coming up with ideas on doing something with the team, to lift everyone’s spirits after the whole Slade thing.  Your question sort of got caught in that particular train of thought. Kind of like when you’re reading something and you have to speak but you end up saying the word you were looking at on your book, or screen, whatever way of reading you prefer doing. Are you more of a book guy or an e-reader guy? Never mind. Not the point,” she said quickly.

“The  _ point  _ is that I didn’t realize what you meant was a ‘just us’ scenario, instead of a ‘let’s have a Team Arrow outing’ scenario. Ergo, the awkward usual thing I do, which loosely translates to me turning the whole situation into an unbearable cycle of doom and embarrassment--which I will have you know, I’ve been feeling since you left the foundry and I actually realized just how badly I had handled that particular conversation.”

Oliver didn’t say anything.  He just stared at her, almost gaping, like he couldn’t believe all those words had come out of her.  His silence made her so uncomfortable that before she could help it,  she face palmed.

“My brain hates me. I swear, I am capable of having a completely coherent conversation,” she muttered.

A huff of breath she sensed--no, she knew was a chuckle--made her return her gaze to his. Something that was  _ way  _ different between the two Olivers was the fact that the one right in front of her smiled more freely, even more so since he’d agreed to help the team. Sure, the original emerald archer smiled, but there was something almost enchanting about the smile of the man before her.

“So what you’re saying is that it wasn’t a no,” he said, slowly, hesitantly.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. Not a no at all,” she answered quickly, feeling her mouth stretch in a wide smile even as that flame of blush returned to her cheeks. “But, since I so thoroughly bombed the first attempt, how about we do this instead. I spotted a snocone cart on my way in. Maybe I can get you one, as a ‘I’m sorry for not catching on soon enough and possibly making you feel horrible’ gift and then . . . maybe, we can talk . . . about dinner?”  

Felicity bit her lower lip, trying not to notice how his eyes focused on the motion before flicking back up to meet her gaze.

“I’d like that,” he replied, a soft smile--one that made dimples appear in his cheeks.  Did she know Oliver had dimples? 

“You would? I mean, great. Good!” Getting to her feet, she made sure she had her purse and brushed the back of her legs with her hand, in case she had grass stuck to her skin. “Any particular flavor?”

He took a deep breath, watching her from his sitting position and smiled.  “Surprise me.”

The  _ obviously  _ flirting tone in his voice almost made her face burst into veritable flames.

“You’ve got it,” she blurted, turning on her heels and walking away.

And if she put a bit more sway to her hips as she walked . . . well, who could blame her? Sure,  whatever this was had a clear expiration date, but she had always hated mysteries.  Not knowing what Oliver and she could be? That was a mystery she couldn’t leave unsolved. After all, the team’s Oliver had never shown any interest in her that way.  Her ‘wait it out’ strategy had left her absolutely nowhere. It would have been a shame to make the same mistake twice. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity: doing the same thing and expecting a different result? Ugh, leave it to her to get herself in this type of situation.  Inter-universe dating? Was that an actual thing?  If things progressed further than snocones, she was going to find out. 

XXX

Oliver watched Felicity walk away, taking in the bounce in her ponytail, the straight line of her spine, the gentle swing of her hips that made the skirt of her dress flutter around her frankly killer legs.  

Her looks were secondary to her appeal, however.  Yes, Felicity was attractive, possessing a clear beauty that he couldn’t help noticing.  Even more than her eyes and her skin and her hair and her figure, though, was her heart.  Her courage.  Her mind.  

It had only been three days, but Oliver felt like he had already fallen for the blonde genius.  It wasn’t like him to react so emotionally, to leap before he looked.  Asking Felicity out had been an impulsive action, an uncharacteristic one given the inner turmoil he felt over his performance during Slade’s attack.  

Because he had failed.  He had aimed, standing only a few feet away from the enhanced soldier, and his arrow had missed.  There hadn’t been a loud noise or a flash of light to distract him when he released the arrow; he had simply missed.  Which was unacceptable.  It had been the perfect chance to take out Slade and he hadn’t been able to take it.  

Perhaps he had asked out Felicity as a way to ignore what had happened.  To see if her opinion of him had changed, given how he had let down the whole team.  So when she had misunderstood him, it was even more crushing.  

It meant she didn’t see  _ him _ .  She could only see the Oliver who was supposed to be here, the Oliver who would never ask her out on a date, the Oliver who would invite Felicity out for a team dinner and nothing else.  

After two such blows, he had needed to get away.  Needed to take a break.  When he had stepped outside of Verdant, he had looked around, not sure where to go, before he remembered the park where the coffee cart had been located.  It wasn’t far away, and he was pretty sure he could find it without getting lost.  

This Starling City was certainly different from his own: less rainy and gloomy, with the bright blue skies and frequent sunshine.  And even in this area, which in his universe was little better than slums, there seemed to be a different energy to the public.  An optimism that made this city, so similar to his home, feel very different.  

Once he had arrived at the park, he had ignored the coffee in favor of people-watching.  Because the park was full of them: mothers pushing strollers and joggers on the slightly derelict paths, senior citizens playing checkers or chess, children playing hopscotch and ring-around-the-rosey.  He found himself sitting under a tree, watching all these people, at eleven o’clock on a weekday, when normally he would be at Queen Consolidated, deep in meetings and business.  For a moment, he couldn’t help smiling at the thought of what Thea, his Thea, would say about him playing hooky like this.

That is, if he ever made it back to his universe.  If he ever got to see his sister again.  Because given Barry’s reliance on luck instead of skill, there was every chance he wouldn’t get to go home.  Which meant . . . take the chance to go home, or choose to stay here?  

Oliver had drawn his legs in against his chest.  Neither choice felt all that appealing, although he knew that considering his responsibilities in his world, and his worries about Thea, of course he would try to return to his proper place.  Yet at the moment, his failures in this universe had been weighing on him too heavily for him to consider his future, such as it was.  

And then Felicity had appeared, making his inner struggle become even more pressing.  Especially in light of their conversation, with how she had provided much-needed encouragement.  When he had started talking about having failed, the encounter with Slade wasn’t the only thing he had in mind. His botched attempt at asking her out was, still, front and center in his mind. But she had been so passionate about forcing him to look at himself through her eyes, he couldn’t really let that opportunity pass.  He had wanted her to see him, so badly. And her insight was a balm to his wounded pride.  

On the other hand--even if it had been a small thing, insignificant to anyone else but him, and he hated the fact it brought him so much hope--Felicity had uttered the words ‘other Oliver’ when talking about the team’s Oliver.  When she had been talking about how Slade was overpowered even for the ‘other Oliver’ . . . it was probably only a slip of the tongue, but it had meant the world to him. For as long as he’d been in this universe, he had been the outsider, the alternate, the other.  Now, though, it seemed like Felicity was thinking of the missing hero as the ‘other’.  

That validation threatened to make his heart burst out of his chest with happiness.  Along with how as soon as Felicity got back with snocones, they would be talking about dinner.  About an actual dinner, just the two of them.  It wasn’t just dinner--it was a date.  A date-date.

He felt like a teenage boy who had just asked out a girl, but he couldn’t seem to help it.  This wasn’t like him, to give in to his emotions like this.  Yet coming to this universe, seeing just how much bigger life could be, made him realize how much his scheduled, monotonous life had numbed him to his emotions, his hopes--to everything.  He had sacrificed more than he had realized, in order to not be a failure.  To convince his parents he wasn’t the same Ollie.  Yet they couldn't be convinced.  Because just like when he was a teenager, they hadn’t really noticed him.  Hadn’t looked at him.  Hadn’t seen him.  

The realization hit him like a blow to the gut.  He was once again in a situation where he was trying to make people see the real him.  Yet unlike his parents, the people who had given him life, Digg, Roy and Thea, Felicity--they were all trying, at least.  And maybe they could already see him as his own man.  There had been moments with each of the team members before today when they realized he wasn’t just their Oliver’s doppleganger--he just looked like their Oliver.  They knew he was different.

Whereas he was pretty sure his parents would never see him as anything but Ollie the failure, Ollie the screw-up.  

Sighing, Oliver leaned back against the tree and gazed upwards, into the leafy canopy.  This wasn’t what he thought he’d end up thinking about.  Honestly, with everything else going on right now, making such a sad, troubling connection wasn’t something he was ready to deal with.  Closing his eyes, he consciously did his best to push all these questions--who was he, why couldn’t his parents see the real him, how did the team actually see him--to the back of his mind.  

Right now, he could handle only one distraction from Slade.  And he was going to make that distraction be Felicity.  She was worthy of distraction.  Even if it wasn’t wise to start anything with Felicity, even if she shouldn’t have let himself fall for her, it was too late.  He was in too deep to stop.  

A chirping chime and a buzzing in his pants made Oliver’s eyes pop open.  He reached into his pocket, fumbling for the cell phone Felicity had given him yesterday.  It was the first time it had rung, so he wasn’t expecting such a cheerful sounding ringtone.  Was it the same one that the alternate Oliver used?  

There was no name listed on the display, so Oliver didn’t know what to expect when he answered.  “Hello?” he asked, hoping that it was Felicity.

“Kid.”  

The single word, spoken in that Australian accent, made Oliver go still and tense.  His hand gripped the phone tightly as he scrambled to his feet.  “Slade.”  

The soldier let out a caustic laugh.  “It’s almost like you know who I am.  That you know our history,  _ Oliver _ .”  

Slade put a heavy emphasis on his name, making his nerves increase exponentially.  He wasn’t sure what this meant, but getting a phone call from your nemesis--or at least, the man who was the nemesis of your alternate universe self--couldn’t be a good thing. 

“What do you want, Slade?” 

“Right to business.  Good.  I think we both know where we stand.  Look to your left, towards the street,” Slade directed, a gleeful malevolence in his voice.  

He knew where Oliver was.  Did he have someone watching him?  Oliver looked around, trying to see if there was anyone who looked suspicious.  But wouldn’t Slade send someone who looked utterly normal to perform surveillance?  Or were there cameras here in the park, cameras that he was using to watch him?  

“What is this about?” Oliver asked, slowly turning towards his left.  

“All in due time.  There’s a black Mercedes there.  Get in the back seat,” Slade ordered.  

“Say please,” Oliver countered, not sure why this snarky quality came out whenever he talked to Slade.  Between his line about being cold and now this comeback, it wasn’t like him--or the other Oliver, he guessed.  

There was a momentary pause, then Slade laughed again.  “I’m going to enjoy breaking you.  Especially if it means I get double the pleasure.” 

Double the pleasure?  Oliver didn’t have time to figure that out, because Slade continued.  “Get in the car or she dies.”  

She?  

_ Felicity _ .

His blood went cold, even as he lowered the phone and looked around wildly, searching for any sign of the spectacled genius who had his heart in her hands.  The park had seemed small and welcoming only a few moments ago, but now it looked vast and forbidding.  There was no sign of Felicity.  

Because Slade must have taken her.  

Swallowing, Oliver looked down at the phone in his hand.  His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t draw enough air.  How could he breathe, though, knowing that Felicity had been captured by Slade, that Slade was probably planning some sick scheme to gain his revenge on Oliver.  A scheme that could end up with Felicity scared or hurt or even worse.  

No.  No, that wouldn’t be happening.  There was no way Oliver could let anything happen to her.  Slowly, he turned back towards the street, spotting the car and walking towards it.  Every step felt like it took an eternity, even though he knew he was practically running.  What if the car just drove away without him?  He would have no idea how to find Felicity, no idea what to do.  The team didn’t work without her.

When he reached the car, he quickly opened the rear passenger door and slid inside.  Only then did he lift the phone to his ear and spoke.  “I’m in the car.”  

“Well done,” Slade replied.  “Enjoy the ride.”  

Oliver hung up the phone, shoving it back into his pocket.  He stared out the window, watching Starling City go by.  He knew he should send a message to the team.  Or wonder why Slade wasn’t worried about Oliver knowing where he was going.  

All he could do, though, was worry about Felicity.

End, Chapter 6     
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so excited to bring y’all this chapter. I think Mel and I are both feeling very energized as we approach a big moment that we’ve been planning since we began this story. First, though, we can’t wait for your reaction to seeing Oliver face off against Slade again, and seeing if Oliver can save the woman that Slade has kidnapped. Happy reading!

 

For the first few moments, Oliver could only sit stiffly in the backseat of the sleek Mercedes.  The car, driven by a silent chauffeur, moved through the streets of Starling City, past buildings he recognized from his own home city and park squares that were completely different from back home.  

Yet Oliver barely noticed what he was looking at, because he was too caught up in worrying about Felicity.  Wondering if she had fought back, scared that Slade’s goons had hurt her, terrified that he wouldn’t be able to save her.  

His mind set the scene against his will, creating a vivid image of despair and danger.  Inside a dark, cold warehouse, a single bulb would shine harsh light into Felicity’s eyes.  Her face would be bloody, her clothes ripped.  Tied to a chair, she would do everything she could to hide the shivers of fear wracking her body while she attempted to find a way to escape . . . yet without a computer, what could Felicity do to save herself?  

Oliver felt sick to his stomach.  He closed his eyes and made himself push the images away.  He couldn’t let himself fall apart.  It was just his emotions going berserk.  It wasn’t real--it couldn’t be the truth.  It was broad daylight, for God’s sake--there was no way Felicity was in some dark warehouse.

If he was going to get Felicity out of this, unharmed and safe, he couldn’t keep acting like this.  He had to get himself under control and think like the real Oliver.  During her pep talk, Felicity had said the odds were in his favor for his next encounter with Slade.  Of course, she hadn’t known their next showdown would be happening so soon, but Oliver wanted to be ready for going toe-to-toe with Slade again.  And he wanted to tilt the odds even more in his favor.  

The driver sat straight-backed in the driver’s seat, barely glancing into the rear view mirror.  Oliver watched him for a few moments, before he slowly edged his hand towards the pocket of his jeans--the pocket where his phone was.  

With small movements, Oliver did his best to act like he was only shifting in the back seat before returning his gaze to the view outside his window.  The driver gave no signs of noticing what Oliver was doing.  His hopes rising, Oliver finally removed his phone and woke up the screen, hoping that Felicity had programmed the team’s numbers into the phone.  

He wanted to fist pump when he saw a neat alphabetical list of names under Contacts, with Digg’s name first.  Carefully moving his thumb, he pressed on Digg’s contact and selected text message.  

_ slade has felicity being taken to her need help _ , Oliver typed with his thumb, going as quickly as he could while trying not to look like he was typing on his phone.  Each moment felt like a lifetime until he could finally press Send.

The little circle under the message, next to the word Sending, spun and spun and spun.  The longer it took, the more Oliver kept looking, until finally he was just staring at the screen.  

And then the words MESSAGE FAILED. RETRY? appeared on the screen.

“Once you completed your call to Mr. Wilson, I engaged a cellular blocking protocol,” the driver said, making Oliver startle in his seat.  “I regret that you will not be able to use your device for any kind of communication, Mr. Queen.”  

His British accent was clipped and precise, without an ounce of emotion.  That just made Oliver feel even more desperate.  Because how could he do this without the team’s help?  How could he face Slade on his own?  

He couldn’t.  There was no way Oliver could defeat Slade.  He was going to fail.

Oliver felt his heart pound in his chest, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow, as the reality sunk in.  He was going to lose.

_ If you fail, Felicity dies _ .  

It was like his entire body recoiled at the thought.  Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.  No.  No, Felicity could  _ not  _ die.

It was likely he wouldn’t be enough.  That he would die trying to save Felicity.  But if that was what it took, Oliver was going to do it.  Slade needed to be stopped, or at least held at bay long enough for them to escape.  There had to be some kind of way to do that, right?  With Felicity’s help, maybe there would be a way to outthink or outmaneuver Slade, so they could get away.  

A bubble of hope started forming inside his body.  It was possible.  Slade might have super strength, but that didn’t mean he was all-knowing and all-powerful.  After all, he was building his whole plan on his knowledge of Oliver Queen.  

But he wasn’t Slade’s Oliver Queen.  Perhaps that would be the key.  

The car slowed and Oliver looked out the window, realizing they were pulling up in front of a hotel.  A hotel that looked exactly like the Starling Grand from his universe, only here it was called the Starling Astoria Hotel.  

A doorman opened the car door for Oliver, but he didn’t move.  He leaned forward and spoke to the driver.  “What--what do I do now?”

“Room 1012,” the driver said.  “Mr. Wilson is waiting for you there.”  

“Right,” Oliver said, taking a breath and stepping out of the car.

“Welcome to the Starling Astoria, Mr. Queen,” the doorman said.

Replying with a nod, Oliver let his shoulders fall back as he walked into the hotel.  The lobby was richly and luxuriously appointed, with overstuffed sofas and chairs scattered around the open space.  His boots thudded against the marble floors and he knew the soft lighting fully exposed how underdressed he was for the area.  That didn’t matter, though.  He might only be wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, but he just remembered he was Oliver Queen, billionaire.  It didn’t matter what he was wearing, as long as he carried himself like he was calm and confident.  

He could almost hear Felicity say, “Fake it ‘til you make it!”  His lips quirked in a small smile before he grew serious again, focusing on the matter at hand.  

Within a few moments, he was stepping off the elevator onto the tenth floor, making his way towards a suite at the far end of the hallway.  He stepped up to the door that bore the number plate 1012 and knocked, squaring his shoulders. So his idea about a warehouse had been wrong . . . still, the location didn’t make it any better. 

Opulence was something he was used to--his birth into a very wealthy family had ensured it--but it seemed wrong at this particular point in time. The fact that a madman could kidnap an innocent woman and hold her hostage in a five-star hotel, one that in his universe was renowned for its extravagant features and seemed to be equally famous in this one, made him want to throw up.

Was she tied to an antique chair right now? Gagged and blindfolded with her hands and feet bound, in an exquisite room with fine wood paneling, thick light-blocking curtains, and Egyptian cotton sheets on a king-sized bed?  A bed that hopefully hadn’t been used--unless she had been drugged so she wouldn’t put up a fuss?  Had they dumped her in a pristine claw-footed porcelain bathtub, just so she wouldn’t be in the way? In Oliver’s mind, this hotel, the dream of so many honeymooners and tourists who would appreciate staying in an architectural landmark, was as much a disaster as the foundry had been after Slade’s attack. 

The door was opened by a man in a suit, nothing out of the ordinary about him.  With dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark suit, his whole appearance screamed bodyguard or simply lackey. There were two other men, standing by the double doors across from the small foyer into which Oliver stepped. In unison, the men pulled the double doors open for him and he walked into what appeared to be an luxurious suite. The room he was in now was a mixture of sitting room and library, done up in creams, reds and dark woods. And there, in the middle of the room, as if a king on his throne, sat the man himself.

Slade Wilson stared at him from only a few feet away, one hand holding a tumbler of what Oliver guessed to be Scotch, simply by the color. Except for the eye patch, he looked like a regular man.  A wolf in sheep’s clothing--or in his case, a very expensive Armani suit. 

“I’m pleased you could make it, kid,” he said gruffly, tilting the glass in Oliver’s direction only slightly before taking a sip. 

“What do you want?”

“Sit.” 

Even though he bristled at the command inwardly, on the outside Oliver kept up his best attempt at a cool facade. Taking his time, as if he was in the boardroom at QC and was the master of all he surveyed, Oliver moved forward.  He rounded the chair placed across from quite possibly the most dangerous man in the continent, sitting down and making himself comfortable. His blue eyes never left the other man. To keep his hands from curling into fists, he settled them on the armrests of the chair and tilted his head to the side, trying for nonchalant. 

“What do you want?” he asked again, as calmly as he could.

The man with the eye patch studied him for a long moment. He was a refined-looking individual and Oliver knew that when he went home to his own universe--if he ever got the chance--one of the first things he’d do was make sure that if a Slade Wilson existed, he would make it his business to learn all about him, just to be prepared. He was sure he would never forget his face, after all.

“I’m beginning to think that what I want is out of my reach, at the moment,” Slade admitted, after another sip of his drink. “Do you still want the same things, kid? You did get to come back home, but what about the rest? Back on the island, not one night went by without you looking at that picture you carried. I wonder, is that still your heart’s desire?” 

The island? He didn’t know nearly enough about that particular topic, how the island had impacted this universe’s Oliver, to even attempt to bluff.  So he kept silent, forcing his face muscles to twitch slightly, clenching his jaw, making himself seem uncomfortable with the topic the other man had chosen. Perhaps if he managed to look uncomfortable enough, he wouldn’t have to talk about it and reveal himself as the ‘other’.

Slade’s one dark eye gleamed with both excitement and madness. 

“It wouldn’t take much, you know? Kept myself quite busy after you left me for dead, made enough money that one call would be enough for me to have her here in an hour or two; maybe even present her to you wrapped with a little bow. Your precious Laurel.”

Laurel? It took all of his willpower to not show his confusion at Slade’s train of thought. Why would he want Laurel? Then it hit him. He wasn’t this Slade’s ‘kid’. He wasn’t the man he had spent only God knew how long with on that island of doom. And Roy’s words about how Oliver, this universe’s Oliver, had to go away because he was sulking over the ‘uppity lawyer’ swam in his mind, along with Felicity’s murmured statement the first day he’d arrived about him ‘also having a Laurel’ in his universe.

Silence was not the way to go, it seemed. It took Slade a second to catch on to his lack of response and it made the older man grin.

“Ah, yes . . . it seems I have chosen the wrong topic. Perhaps that cute blonde assistant of yours would be a better gift? She is colorful enough, wouldn’t even need the bow. Would I?” 

He should have worked harder to suppress the reaction--he knew he should have--but there was nothing he could do.  Even if it was only a minimal reaction: the slight curling of his fingers onto the armrest of the chair, his body tensing up, his nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing only slightly and for a fraction of a second.

But he had seen it. Of course he had seen. It was irreparable now.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Oliver forced out, past gritted teeth.

Lifting the glass to his lips, Slade finished up his drink at a leisurely pace before setting the tumbler aside, on a nearby end table.  Once his dark eye swung around to stare at Oliver again, there was no more madness in it. No, that gaze held a mixture of hatred and purpose.

“I want to take everything Oliver Queen loves away from him,” he admitted. “How many people can Oliver Queen lose, before there is no more Oliver Queen?”

“I am Oliver Queen,” the younger man said, shaking his head slightly, as if to point out the absurdity of Slade’s statement.  Even as his heart sped up to beat double time.

He knew. Somehow, Slade had realized that he was not the Oliver Queen from the island; the tortured soul who took on Starling City’s bad guys with a bow and arrow along with his team of fighters, the Oliver he had a blood feud with.  Still, Oliver had to try and throw him off or else, everything he’d done, even coming here, would be for nothing.

In a flash, Slade was there, right in front of him, with one hand holding onto Oliver’s throat, his fingers a claw of steel, impossible to escape or break free.  Oliver’s own hands desperately grasped at the wrist of the supersoldier, his sitting position lasting only a second before he was lifted, by the throat, and dangled in the air, his feet a few inches from the floor.

“Who. Are. You? Where is Oliver Queen?” Slade sneered.

“I--I am . . .”

“Don’t lie to me!” the older man yelled right in Oliver’s face, before dropping him unceremoniously back in the chair and beginning to pace right in front of him.  Oliver gasped for air and tried to get his bearings. 

“You? You are nothing but a puppet,” Slade continued the tirade, looking to the side as if someone else was talking to him, even though the room was empty aside from the two of them. “No, you’re right, he couldn’t even shoot the bow right . . .”

“Wh-who are you talking to?” Oliver managed to croak, one of his hands still rubbing his neck, trying to remove the feel of Slade’s fingers wrapped around his throat.

Turning his gaze back to Oliver, Slade sized him up again. It was a probing, measuring look, searching for any discrepancies, anything that was different.  Oliver had the uncomfortable feeling that it was like he was a part of one of those ‘spot the differences’ game. The shiver that ran down his spine almost made it to the surface.

“You look the part, I will give you that much, but you are not him!” Slade’s words were cutting, angry, and then, just like that, the man was calm once more, running one of his hands through his hair as if to make sure he was still put together. “No matter. You will make a great message once I send your corpse down to that cave below his nightclub, along with hers.”

No. No, no, no.  **_No_ ** !

It was an instant reaction, one he couldn’t help. One moment he was still in the chair.  The next, he had launched himself at Slade with a furious roar. It was pointless, though. The older man caught him by the throat again, exerting a bit more pressure this time around, so the black spots from lack of oxygen bloomed immediately in Oliver’s vision.

“So, even a fake Oliver Queen cares about his little sister,” the man grinned, smirking at this reveal.  He tightened his grip slightly before letting go with a shove, sending Oliver tumbling a few feet away on the marble floors. “How touching.”

Thea. Thea,  _ Thea _ ,  **THEA** . 

Sputtering for breath and with blood pounding in his ears, Oliver watched from his prone position as Slade smiled down at him. It wasn’t blood, the red substance of life in his veins any more, but ice cold liquid, the fear and the guilt warring within him so intensely that his heart constricted in his chest. Thea. She was the one Slade had, not Felicity. It was a horrible sinking feeling, knowing he was actually relieved at that fact.  Felicity was safe, away from the madman . . . but Thea. 

God, Thea . . . the girl who was his counterpart’s sister.  The young woman, full of courage and heart, who brought out the same feelings in him as his own beloved Speedy.  Thea, the best of the Queens.  Under the control of this madman.  And he felt  _ relieved _ .  Because Slade didn’t have Felicity.

“I think I’ll go fetch my guest of honor.” 

The moment the man turned away from him, facing the doors towards the room where he more than likely was keeping his sister, Oliver’s instincts kicked in again. Pushing himself to all fours, he croaked out a sound of desperation that didn’t need words. If Slade went in there. If he got anywhere near Thea, Oliver had no doubt, the psycho would kill her without a second thought.

Not simply because it would pain the Oliver Queen, the man Slade wanted to hurt . . . but it would be a blow on the Oliver Queen Slade currently had in his clutches.

‘Wa--wait!”

In all of his life, he had never seen anyone look at him with as much disdain as Slade did in that moment. A single pause, a glance over the shoulder, as if he was nothing but an undesirable substance that he should scrape off the bottom of a shoe. He was a bug. Less than a bug. He was nothing.

“I can give you what you want,” he garbled out, pushing himself up so he was resting on his knees, arms at his sides.

“You don’t have what I want,” the man offered, sounding almost sad.

Sadness was a much better opening than unadulterated rage and Oliver would take it.

“Try me,” Oliver pushed, chest heaving. “You’re more than human, right? Bullets didn’t stop you at the lair. You were stronger and faster than everyone on the team. You could probably tell when I’m lying or something?” His words were stumbling out in a rush past his lips, as fast as he could make them go. “Listen to me. I am not lying to you. Just tell me what you want!”

“I. Want. Shado!” the man roared, turning fully before stalking over to stand before Oliver. “I want the woman I love, the woman Oliver Queen murdered while we were on the island,” he growled, crouching in front of Oliver. “Can you do that? Can you bring her back from the dead? Because if you can’t I’m not interested,” he huffed while straightening up.  Moving towards the doors again, towards the room where Thea was.

Oliver couldn’t let him get close to his sister.  He had to come up with something, some way to keep Thea safe.  

The only option was to tell the truth.  

“I can do something better.” Oliver stated, staring deeply into the darkness of Slade’s eye. “What if she’d never died? What if--What if she was alive?”

“You’re grasping at straws, kid.”

Oliver moved forward, holding his hands up, trying to stay Slade from going any closer to those doors.  “No, listen to me!”

“No! You listen! Shado is dead!” Slade shouted.

“Your Shado may be dead . . . but maybe there’s another way,” Oliver said, getting to his feet. “You’re right. I am not the Oliver Queen you know but I  _ am  _ Oliver Queen,” he continued, heaving a heavy sigh afterwards.

This was it. The last card to be played. The secret he had wanted to protect--but what good would that do if he let this man kill his sister? Yes, she wasn’t truly his Thea, but the effect it would have on this universe’s Oliver, on himself? It would be irreparable. It was unthinkable. 

“There’s a man, like you, who can do impossible things. He can run faster than any man alive. So fast, he can bend the rules of space and time, jump through the barriers between what he called the multiverse,” Oliver explained, keeping his gaze steady on Slade. “That man came to my universe and brought me here, to this one, to the team of the Oliver you know, thinking that I was him, only from a few months ago. He brought me here from a place where there is no Arrow, I was never shipwrecked on an island . . . so if I wasn’t there, then how could I have murdered the woman you love?”

“You’re lying.” 

The words were the same ones he had used against Oliver already, but now they lacked power. He could almost see Slade’s mind working, trying to figure out if what Oliver said was true. 

“No,” Oliver said with a shake of his head. “You’re a smart man, a businessman.  You’ve probably planned this whole thing throughout the years. You know your prey. That’s why you noticed he and I were different, even if we look exactly the same. You probably know every step he’s taken since before he arrived back in Starling City. I am telling you, I am not the Oliver Queen you knew, that you know. I don’t have the scars. I don’t have the tattoos . . . and do you want to know why I missed that shot at the lair? It’s because until three days ago, I had never touched a bow in my whole life. I am not your Oliver.”

He could see how the evidence began sinking in for Slade, how his doubts crystallized into proof.  Saw how Slade accepted that getting revenge on the man before him would be cold comfort, because this Oliver wasn’t the Oliver who, in Slade’s mind, had done him wrong.

“No, you’re not . . . ” he said slowly, the sadness reappearing in his voice.

“I can help you,” Oliver said, slowly, softly, as if he was talking to a wild animal that could spook at any moment. “You need to let Thea and I go free.  If you want Shado more than revenge, then you can let us go, and in return, I can get you the man of speed.” 

Oliver stepped towards Slade, keeping his voice soft and reassuring.  “He can take you back to before she died or he can take you to another universe, like mine, where she and I never crossed paths. Where she could be alive.”

“Shado . . . ” Slade breathed out, sounding like a child who was being told that fairies or Santa Claus was real. 

If Oliver didn’t know any better, he would say the man was misty-eyed. He watched as Slade turned his head and glanced towards the windows.  There was no one there, of course, but Oliver knew better than to say anything about it. This was his last chance. It was quite possibly the biggest hail mary ever devised.  He needed to get Thea out of Slade’s grasp. He needed to buy some time. Just enough for the team to get that cure, for them to come up with something to beat this madman . . . 

“In a few days, the speedster is coming back to take me home,” Oliver continued, knowing to strike the iron while it was hot, as it might be his only chance. “I can get him for you, but in order to do that, both Thea and I need to go back to the others.”

There was an obvious inner struggle within the other man, an amalgam of emotion showing on his face: distrust, anger, helplessness, hope. It was the last one which made Oliver think he might have an actual chance at pulling this off. Obviously there was no way he was going to let Slade go back in time, nor to another universe. It was all a lie. The man was too dangerous to be allowed either benefit . . . but all Oliver needed was for him to believe that he could be given such a gift.  Which, thanks to Barry’s ability and Oliver’s sheer presence in this other universe, was true.

The moment the man made his choice was evident. He jutted out his chin proudly, before grabbing Oliver by the back of the head and pulling him close so he could snarl in his face.

“You have three days to get me the speedster,” he told Oliver. “After that, all bets are off, kid.”

He pushed Oliver away from himself.  “And if you, or any of your little gang of followers, try to run, know that there is no place on earth where you can hide from me.”

“We won’t run,” Oliver promised after righting himself. “Where’s Thea?”

“Bedroom,” Slade said, gesturing towards the room that Oliver had suspected was Thea’s jail cell, while straightening the lapels of his suit jacket.  He turned on his heel and walked towards the door of the suite.  “Bring me the speedster in three days, Mr. Queen--or else.” 

Oliver didn’t wait for any more words.  He didn’t stop to watch the man go.  Instead, he rushed to the doors on the other side of the room and pulled them open. There, lying on the king sized bed as he had dreadfully imagined, was Thea. She wasn’t bound, nor did she look any more hurt than she had been a few hours before after Slade’s initial attack.  Her chest was rising and falling in a deep sleep.

Drugged.

Moving quickly, he scooped her carefully off the bed and into his arms, making sure her head was cradled against his chest. She was okay . . . mostly at least. Now, he had to get her out of here and get back to the others, back to Felicity, and tell them what he had just bargained for his sister’s safety.

XXX

“You did  **_what_ ** ?!?”

Oliver couldn’t help flinching at Thea’s shocked words.  At how disappointed Digg looked, at the confused expressions on Roy and Tommy’s faces.  At how Felicity’s eyes snapped with anger.  

“You made a deal with Slade?” Digg said, folding his arms over his chest and taking a few steps forward.  Putting himself between the still-recovering Thea and Felicity, Oliver noticed.  

Like they needed to be protected from Oliver.  

Swallowing, he nodded.  “I did.  It was the only way to get out of there with Thea.  And it bought us time to plan and get ready.  To have Barry with us and on alert.”

“Because you put a target on him!” Felicity said, standing up and pushing past Digg.  “You threw my friend--our friend--to the wolves, to save your own skin!”

Tommy lifted his hands up in the air.  “Why don’t we all just stay calm--”

“It was for Thea!” Oliver insisted, ignoring Tommy.  Ignoring everything but Felicity and the scary feeling that he had just lost her good opinion--and that was something he couldn’t bear.  “And it wasn’t like that.  Slade is crazy!  He was hallucinating the whole time I was there--thinking that some woman named Shadow was there!”

“Shado?” Digg said, pronouncing the name more like Slade had, his arms suddenly uncrossing as he spoke.

Oliver looked at Digg, feeling a tiny flicker of hope.  “Do you know who she is?”  

Digg nodded slowly.  “She was on the island with Oliver.  It was her father who taught him how to use the bow.  I don’t know much more than that, but if you’re looking for a reason why Slade hates Oliver so much--well, one woman, two men . . .”  Digg shrugged his shoulders.  “It makes sense.  And so you promised Slade that Barry would help him find Shado?”  

“Yes--because I didn’t know what else to do,” Oliver replied.  He looked at Felicity, trying to get her to understand.  “It wasn’t about throwing Barry under the bus--out of all of us, he’s probably the only one who could really stand up to Slade.”  

“You’re right about that,” Roy acknowledged.  

Felicity blew out a breath and ran her hands over her hair.  Oliver could see how bedraggled her ponytail was, like she had been doing that motion frequently.  “This has been a very long day.”

It was all he could do not to let out a bitter laugh.  This morning, when he had asked her out and they had talked things out after her misunderstanding, did feel like a very long time ago.  When he had walked into the lair with Thea, and had seen Felicity safe and sound, it had been all he could do not to hug her and never let her go.  

Hesitantly, Oliver took a few steps towards her.  “I’m sorry I missed out on the snocones.”  

She gave him a shy, sad smile.  “Me, too.  I dropped them when I came back and you weren’t there.  I rushed back here to look for you, since the tracker app on your phone wasn’t working, and we had just figured out you were at the Starling Astoria when we saw you leaving with Thea.”  

“The car I was in had some kind of cell-blocking technology--I couldn’t send you a message,” Oliver explained.  He deliberated for a moment, then gently rested his hand on Felicity’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry.  I--I’m not your Oliver.  I couldn’t think of anything except telling Slade about Barry.  About me.  I thought . . . I thought Slade might care more about Shado than getting revenge on Oliver Queen.”  

“It’s the kind of thing our Oliver would do.”  

At Digg’s words, Oliver couldn’t help wheeling around to look at the former soldier, too shocked to say anything.  

“It is,” Roy said, looking first at Oliver, then at Felicity.  “Remember how he shot me in the leg when I wouldn’t back down?”  

“And how he wouldn’t let me use my drug dealer contacts to help take down Count Vertigo--but instead went all Big Bad Bratva Captain on us?” Thea said, her voice a bit raspy. 

Tommy looked up from the cut on Thea’s head that he was tending.  “Hiding the truth about my father, even when it meant I hated him for a little while.”

“Constantly kicking my ass,” Digg added grumpily.  

Felicity sighed.  “All the awful lies he told me.  Okay, okay, so maybe . . . maybe this is exactly the kind of crazy plan Oliver would come up with.  That still leaves us needing to figure out how we’re going to deal with Slade in three days.”  

“Especially now that Slade knows I’m not the Oliver Queen he wants to take out,” Oliver said.  

“True--but he can’t anticipate your actions like he can with the Oliver he knows,” Digg pointed out.  

“And we’ll have Barry,” Thea said, shifting off the med table to stand on her feet, only to wobble a little.

Roy quickly wrapped an arm around Thea.  “Easy there.”  

“I need to help,” Thea said, looking up at her boyfriend.  “I can’t believe Slade got the drop on me so easily.  And in the middle of my own club.”   

“Our club, you mean,” Tommy said, patting Thea’s shoulder.  “But you need to take it easy for a day or two, sis, until the drug is fully out of your system and we make sure that mild concussion doesn’t become something major.”  

“Tommy’s right, Thea,” Oliver said, rolling his shoulders.  “Okay.  Roy said the other Oliver was working with Sara to find a cure for the mirakuru, right?”  

The blonde hacker nodded.  “That’s right.  They were going to use the Waverider to go back to Lian Yu in the 1940s and steal some mirakuru from the Japanese sub.  Then Ray and Martin were going to help them synthesize a cure from the sample--keep this away from STAR Labs, since they’re so busy dealing with the continuing fallout from the particle accelerator explosion.”  

At Oliver’s confused expression, Felicity winced.  “Sorry for all the exposition and names you don’t know.  Yes, that’s what they’re doing.”  

“And we can’t contact them?  Tell them we need them here?” 

“I’ve tried--once when Oliver wasn’t back after a week and a half, and then when you arrived.  Something about time travel makes communicating with the Waverider glitchy.  Sara could have gotten my messages before Oliver even asked for her help, or the messages will get there long after Oliver has left.”  Felicity lifted her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “I try not to think about it, because then my head starts to hurt from the not-rightness of it all.”  

“Okay,” Oliver said slowly, glancing at everyone else to see if they were just as stumped as he was.  They appeared to be, so he moved on.  “I think we need to call Barry first and let him know that Slade is on to him.”  

Felicity opened her mouth to agree, only for her phone to start ringing.  She held up a finger.  “Hold that thought,” she said as she picked up her phone and answered it.  

While Felicity talked on the phone, Oliver turned to the rest of the team.  “There’s nothing that can counteract the mirakuru?  The only hope is a cure?”  

“From what we’ve seen of Slade, yeah,” Digg said.  “And how Roy was when he was hopped up on it.  He smashed Oliver’s knee.”  

Oliver blinked and looked at Roy, who shifted.  “I apologized for that.  Oliver knew I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for the mirakuru.”  

“Argh!”  

Everyone turned to look at Felicity, who was running her hands over her hair again.  “Oliver, I’m sorry, but we’ve got another problem.  That was Walter--Isabel is making a move on QC.”  

“Who’s Walter?” Oliver asked, stepping over towards Felicity’s desk.  

“Walter Steele--he was your stepfather and the CFO of Queen Consolidated, but now he’s the president of Starling National Bank,” Felicity explained, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“He’s just the CFO in my universe,” Oliver said, watching the computer monitors as Felicity began pulling up financial records.  Then he leaned forward as he took in the information.  “Isabel’s attempting to buy up enough stock to have a majority share in QC.”

Felicity nodded.  “Isabel contacted Walter about buying out Starling National’s shares in QC.  It’s too soon for her to informed the SEC about how she’s increasing her holdings, but according to these brokerage accounts that I . . . accessed, she’s at forty-two percent and climbing.”  Felicity paused and looked at Oliver.  “Your family doesn’t have enough money to head off this hostile takeover.  Isabel could win.”

“The Board of Directors would have to listen to her.  And the first thing she’d do is vote me out as CEO,” Oliver said, clasping his hands behind his neck.

“We can’t let Isabel take over QC, Ollie,” Thea said, moving stiffly as she walked to stand beside Oliver.  She grasped his hand tightly.  “It’s the last thing Mom and Dad would want.”  

“I know, Thea,” Oliver said distractedly, his mind trying to work.  “Walter was our stepfather?”

Thea looked confused.  “Yeah--he and Mom broke up before she died, but he’s helped both of us out even after the divorce.”  

Oliver nodded.  “Tommy, is there a Merlyn Global here?”  

“Yes?” Tommy said slowly, sounding like he didn’t understand where Oliver was going with this.  “My mom runs it.”  

“Okay.  Tommy, Digg, you’re with me.  Felicity, Thea and Roy, keep on the Slade angle while we handle Isabel.  I need to get my suit.”  

Felicity stood up.  “You’re going to put an arrow in Isabel?  Oliver, I know we all hate her--well, you might not hate her, but I sure do, and I can hate her enough for the both of us--and she certainly deserves to get arrowed, but--”

“Not that suit,” Oliver said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the green leather suit on the mannequin.  “My other suit.”

End, Chapter 7   
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doctors dettiot and melsanfo warn you that common symptoms of reading this chapter are screams, squeals, and/or shrieks. Do not read if you suffer from heart problems or a lack of faith. Gasping, heart eyes and the urge to throw things at your computer might occur. If these symptoms persist longer than three hours, please consult your fic providers.

 

“How are you feeling?”  

Oliver stopped fidgeting with his cuff links to look over at Tommy.  They were in the back seat of a Bentley, driven by Digg towards Queen Consolidated, after they had made quick stops at each of their homes to change clothes.  Dressed in a dark suit, a contrast to Oliver’s gray one, Tommy looked a bit uncomfortable.  Like he was wearing a suit that belonged to his father.  Given what Oliver knew of Tommy’s relationship with his father, in both universes, that meant his best friend was feeling antsy and worried.

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Oliver replied.  “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Tommy?  I know it’s a lot to ask--”

“It’s the least I can do,” Tommy interrupted.  “I can’t help you much with your work as the Arrow.  Well, I mean, the real Oliver, I can’t help him.  Not with this leg.”  Tommy patted the knee of his bad leg.  “But this?  I can do.  Even though you’d be better off with just Walter.”  

He shook his head.  “I don’t agree.  To fight Isabel, it’s not enough to use sound business sense--we need to play on the emotions of the Board of Trustees.  Give them a story that will tug on their heartstrings.”  

“And that’s where I come in,” Tommy said with a charming grin.  

“Exactly.  You’re going to do great, Tommy,” Oliver said, patting his shoulder.

“Thanks.  So . . . how are you feeling, really?  It’s been a crazy day, according to Thea.  And from how Felicity was reacting in the lair, I can definitely see that,” Tommy said casually, although not really that casually.  Oliver could tell he was fishing--why else would he mention Felicity?  But Oliver didn’t really mind.  

Not when he looked at Tommy’s face and knew that he knew how Oliver felt--and what he had done about those feelings.  

“Who told you I asked Felicity out?” Oliver asked.  

“Thea,” Tommy replied.  “She was excited--she said you two were really cute together.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh.  “When we’re misunderstanding each other?  Or when a madman interrupts us trying to talk out that misunderstanding?  Or when a crazed businesswoman attempts to take over my family’s company and throw all of us out of work?”

“You’ll have to ask her.  But I gotta say . . . maybe Thea is right.  Maybe you two are right for each other,” Tommy said quietly.  “Don’t get me wrong, Oliver is my best friend.  He always has been.  I’ve tried to tell him he needs to move on, to let Laurel go.  So he can see who’s standing right in front of him with her heart in her eyes.  Oliver’s a stubborn bastard, though, and he’s just . . . he’s not ready--he’s not there yet.  You are.  So maybe this is fate saying Felicity should be with another Oliver Queen.  With you.”  

Until Tommy was saying the words, Oliver hadn’t realized how much he wanted to have his support.  To have him accept Oliver as a real choice for Felicity, instead of competition with the other Oliver or a man who could hurt Felicity.  

Hearing it relaxed Oliver and gave him confidence.  Something he needed before facing off against Isabel.  Before putting his plan into place.  

And once today’s business was over with . . . he was going back to the lair and taking Felicity out to dinner.  Yes, Slade was still there, waiting for Oliver to produce Barry and make Slade’s dreams come true.  They needed to eat, though--so what was the harm in taking Felicity out for a burger and getting to know her a bit better?  Spending some time together and having a break, to help refresh their minds?  

It would be perfect.  However, before he could think about tonight, he had to focus on this afternoon.  On defeating Isabel, hopefully with a plan she wouldn’t see coming.

“We’re here,” Digg said from the front seat, turning to look back at Oliver and Tommy.  “You’re sure about this?”  

Oliver took a deep breath and nodded.  “I am.  I can pull this off.”  

“I know you can, after how you took the wind out of Isabel’s sails yesterday,” Digg said.  The vote of confidence from Digg helped as much as the one from Tommy.  It put Oliver’s nerves to rest and made his shoulders lower as he relaxed.  

“I’m going in.  Tommy, you know what to do.  Walter is ready and waiting,” Oliver said, opening the car door to step out.

“Good luck,” Tommy called out after him, and Oliver paused long enough to smile at him, then nod to Digg, before turning to look up at the corporate headquarters of Queen Consolidated: a building that looked identical to his professional home in the other universe.  

Stepping into the vast foyer, he felt just like he did whenever he walked into work in his own universe.  Although what was different was how people reacted to him.  The security guards, the professionals, the administrative assistants--all the employees watched him with a skeptical glint in their eyes.  Like they didn’t trust him to not bankrupt the company by throwing the most epic kegger ever.  

Given how the other Oliver had run this company, it was understandable how the employees had gotten that idea.  Perhaps this was something he could do for this universe’s Oliver: putting QC on a better, stronger footing.  So he wouldn’t have to worry about the company so much and could focus more on his work as the Arrow.  

With that thought in mind, Oliver stepped into the elevator and took it to the thirty-eighth floor.  He walked out and headed towards the boardroom, but paused to smooth down his suit.  He took out his phone to set up another part of his plan.  Then he pocketed his phone and took a breath, looking through the glass walls into the boardroom, furnished with a sleek black table and chairs.  Chairs that were filled with the members of Queen Consolidated’s Board of Trustees--and one viper with perfect cheekbones.  

A viper who showed a moment of surprise when he walked into the room and stood by the foot of the table, beside the only empty chair.  “Oliver,” she said, her voice slightly breathy.  “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”  

“You weren’t expecting the CEO at a meeting of the Board of Trustees?” Oliver asked blandly.  “That’s surprising.”  

Taking his seat, Oliver nodded to the trustees, whose names and faces he had memorized before his first showdown with Isabel.  He made sure to meet Walter’s eyes, and his former stepfather lifted his chin, making it clear that he was ready.

Ready to follow Oliver, even though he had been curious about and surprised by Oliver’s sudden business acumen.  When Oliver had been explaining his plan over the phone, he could practically hear Walter’s confusion.  Oliver had passed off his apparently-newfound knowledge towards some online business classes, taken in secret so he wouldn’t further embarrass the family with paparazzi following him around Starling University.  At that reveal, Walter had immediately come on board with Oliver’s plan, even if it meant uprooting his own life.  

“I have always felt guilt over leaving the company in the lurch as I did--no, Oliver, I did,” Walter had told him.  “This will go a long way towards balancing the scales.  I’m pleased that even though your mother and I were not able to keep our relationship intact, you came to me for help.”

Oliver had felt a stirring of respect and admiration for the British man.  He made a mental note that upon his return to his own universe, he would get to know that Walter Steele, to discover if he possessed the same integrity and loyalty of this Walter.  

Isabel waited for Oliver to be seated before responding to his barb.  “I was under the impression from your secretary you were unavailable.  That’s all.”  

“Well, I’m here now,” Oliver said, wondering where Isabel had gotten that idea.  Definitely not from Felicity, he bet.  It made him wonder . . . could Isabel have some kind of connection with Slade?  Perhaps it was his paranoia, yet if Isabel thought Oliver was out of the way--or dead--thanks to Slade, then her attack was perfectly timed.  Unfortunately for Isabel, though, Slade had failed to inform her about his deal with Oliver.  

Oliver didn’t trust Isabel Rochev.  It wasn’t just her actions, either--it was her resemblance to Natasha Rocque, the QC intern who had caught his father’s eye, who had spent several years as his mistress.  Natasha was greedy for power, yet Robert had been able to keep her in check by sending her to head up the Hong Kong branch of Queen Consolidated.  The promotion wasn’t completely unwarranted; Natasha was talented, Oliver had to admit.  Yet it also let his father continue his affair with Natasha far from Starling City, under the guise of visiting the Hong Kong office.  Isabel and Natasha were practically twins; the only difference was that in this universe, Robert Queen had been dead for seven years.  So why wouldn’t an ambitious woman like Isabel become drawn into the orbit of someone like Slade Wilson?  An apparently thriving businessman who also had an axe to grind against Oliver Queen?  

Giving his head a shake, Oliver pushed aside those thoughts and focused on Isabel.  While there was clearly things in common with Natasha and Isabel, now wasn’t the time to be distracted from the matter at hand.  “So to what do we owe the need for this meeting?  QC has seen improvement in its stock prices, Applied Sciences is preparing to roll out the first prototype for our new power supply . . .”  

“It’s at times like this that a company is most vulnerable,” Isabel argued.  

“Oh?” Oliver asked, leaning back in his chair and keeping his eyes on Isabel.  “I wasn’t aware of that.”  

She gave him a withering look.  “Of course you’re not aware.  Tell me, Mr. Queen, other than your name, what do you bring to the table as the chief executive officer of this company?”  

It took everything he had to maintain his studied nonchalance while his mind was working frantically to figure out how to counter Isabel.  She had immediately revealed her method of attack, one that fortunately he could rebuff.  Still, it seemed so simple, so clear-cut, he couldn’t help worrying he was missing something.

Second-guessing himself, though, was a sure-fire way to fail.  So Oliver gave Isabel a small smile.  “I take it you think my name, and what I’ve done so far as CEO, isn’t enough?”

“What you’ve done so far?” Isabel asked, one delicate eyebrow raising.  She let out an airy laugh.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Queen, I just can’t help laughing when I think about what you’ve done to make Queen Consolidated a successful company.”  She paused.  “Perhaps I’m laughing so I don’t cry over the criminal levels of neglect and mismanagement under your watch.”  

Damn, Isabel was not playing around.  She was going at him much harder than the last time they had faced off--probably as a reaction to yesterday, when he had cut her down.  Oliver glanced at the board members, getting a feel for their reactions.  While there wasn’t any real overlap between these trustees and the ones that advised his Queen Consolidated, Oliver could see the similarities between the two boards.  Which meant that while they were certainly focused on the bottom line, they were also conservative--not willing to make a big change without good reasons for doing so.  

“Given that as the representative of Stellmoor International, you have served as co-CEO, I would be careful about using words like mismanagement,” Oliver said, dropping his casual politeness and going cold as ice.  “Unless you wish to be tarred with the same brush.”

Isabel scoffed.  “It’s only thanks to my leadership that this company hasn’t fallen victim to a takeover or been hit with massive fines from a myriad of government regulators.”  

“Really?” Oliver asked.  He leaned forward, steepling his hands on the table.  “What have you done, Ms. Rochev, to make Queen Consolidated a success?”

If it was possible to kill someone with a look, Oliver would have been murdered by the fury in Isabel’s gaze.  

“Fine, if you want to play this game, Mr. Queen,” Isabel hissed.  “Under my watch, I have held this company to a higher standard, a standard that was greatly needed after the previous CEO’s mismanagement.  I believe you know her--you called her Mom?”  

There was an indrawn breath from a board member.  Isabel was letting her anger blind her to the reality of the situation: this board did not want to oust him.  

“That’s going too far, Ms. Rochev,” spoke up one of the board members.  

“I don’t think it is,” Isabel replied.  “Mr. Queen can barely find it in himself to arrive on time for meetings--that is, when he deigns to attend them.  He is a billionaire dilettante who failed out of four colleges, who has absolutely no qualifications to run this company.”

“I would disagree,” Walter interjected, his smooth British accent and competent manner drawing everyone’s attention.  “It’s true, Oliver does not have the traditional background for a CEO.  Yet I believe he’s shown himself as someone who is devoted to the wellbeing and success of this company and its employees.  I can’t think of a better place from which an executive should operate.”  

There was a rustle from the board members as they murmured in agreement and nodded in  acknowledgement.  Isabel pressed her lips together and looked down at the papers in front of her, while Oliver fought back a grin.  He kept his face impassive, though.  This was nowhere near over.  Even if Isabel looked like she was shooting herself in the foot, Oliver wanted to make sure she was completely neutralized.  

Which meant having her be shown the door by the board and never allowed to return.  Never allowed to exert more control over his family’s company.  Maybe it wasn’t his family, maybe it wasn’t his company--but Oliver was going to do everything he could to safeguard Queen Consolidated.  

Oliver stood up, buttoning his suit jacket.  “Thank you for the show of support, everyone.  You don’t know how much I appreciate it.  Especially when if it wasn’t for a chance phone call, I wouldn’t even know about this meeting.  Ms. Rochev called it without my knowledge, anticipating I would not attend.  So she could once again present the narrative she’s been pushing since she arrived here: that she was the only one who could save this company.”  

“Mr. Queen, I’m not looking for credit,” Isabel said, lifting her nose in the air.  “I know what this company is capable of, and I’m working to help it live up to its potential.”  

“I want that, too--yet even with that common goal, we can’t seem to work together, Ms. Rochev,” Oliver said, making himself stand still, instead of pacing to relieve his nerves.  

“You’re not capable of working with me.”  

The words seemed to escape from Isabel’s mouth without any thought given to their impact.  They landed heavily, making the board members shift in their chairs.  

But it was the perfect opening for Oliver.  

“I agree,” he said quietly.  

Isabel’s face creased in confusion.  Oliver could hear the board members reacting in surprise, could see them turning to look at each other in equal confusion, but he didn’t move his gaze from Isabel’s face.  

“Stellmoor International stepped in to stabilize Queen Consolidated.  I accepted the position of CEO in order to provide stability, too.  To show that this was still Queen Consolidated, that this company was not going anywhere.  Yet it’s clear that in the interest of the company, we need a change of leadership.”

“Mr. Queen, no one on the board is advocating for a new CEO,” board member Janice Bowen said, rising to her feet.  “Neither do we want to disparage Ms. Rochev’s accomplishments.”  

“That is the last thing I want to do,” Oliver said.  “Because you’re right--Ms. Rochev has done much for Queen Consolidated.  So much, she wants to be the one in charge.”

Oliver gestured for the distinguished socialite to take her seat.  “Mrs. Bowen, you’ll want to be sitting for the news I have to share with the board.”  

Mrs. Bowen looked worried but took her seat.  Oliver let his eyes roam over the faces of each of the board members, letting his words fully sink in.  Then he met Isabel’s gaze.  “Ms. Rochev has been orchestrating a hostile takeover of Queen Consolidated.”  

Isabel’s face drained of color, but she rose to her feet to face Oliver.  “I--I don’t know where you got this idea, Oliver, but it couldn’t be further from the truth.”  She paused to gather herself, then stuck out her chin.  “Where is your proof?”  

“Walter?” Oliver asked, gesturing towards him as he resumed his seat.  

Nodding, Walter looked at his fellow board members.  “This morning, Ms. Rochev approached me, in my role as chief financial officer of Starling National Bank, seeking information on whether the bank would be interested in selling our shares in Queen Consolidated.  As you all remembered, when the bank purchased five percent of QC’s shares, it mandated the current leadership arrangement with Ms. Rochev and Mr. Queen.”  

Several board members spoke at once, protesting this development and demanding an explanation from Isabel, who had slowly sunk back into her chair.  

Isabel let them all talk, shuffling the papers in front of her with slightly shaking hands, then said, “Forgive me if I am skeptical about Mr. Steele’s testimony.  After all, he is Mr. Queen’s former stepfather.  They might not be directly related, but blood is thicker than water, as they say.”  

“Are you questioning my loyalty to this company, Ms. Rochev?” Walter asked, making it very clear the offense he was taking.  

“No one could do that, Walter,” Mrs. Bowen interjected.  “But this is a very serious allegation.”  

“Yes, it is,” Oliver agreed.  “I think it points to the breakdown in the working relationship between myself and Ms. Rochev.  So I would like to propose a new course of action, one implemented by new leaders.”  

The board members looked at each other, before another board member, John Nickle, spoke.  “There's no harm in hearing this idea.  What are you proposing, Oliver?”

“A new CEO at this time will have an impact,” Oliver began.  “Wall Street has been watching us closely for months.  So I want to suggest another set of co-CEOs.  Two individuals who would reassure the financial sector as well as Starling City that Queen Consolidated is a vital company with decades of innovation ahead of it.”

“And what makes you think such a partnership would be any more successful?  Not to mention, I haven't consented to any of this,” Isabel asked.

"Your consent holds no power against an unanimous decision by this board, according to the QC bylaws,” Mrs. Bowen retorted tartly.  

Isabel blanched.  “But--”

“Who do you have in mind, Oliver?” Mr. Nickle interrupted.

Oliver could see how flustered Isabel was becoming.  His unexpected presence had thrown her from the beginning of the meeting, and the business sense he was displaying--which his counterpart in this universe could not--had further disconcerted her.  Now it was time for the final one-two punch.

“Although it would create some extra work for the board, in order to fill a vacant seat, I can think of no one better to look towards Queen Consolidated’s financial position than Walter Steele.  He also is a member of the Queen family,” Oliver stated.

The reaction to Oliver naming Walter as one of the CEOs was just what Oliver had hoped for:  smiles and complete acceptance from the other board members, and a strained expression of grudging acceptance from Isabel.  Because Walter's credentials were so impeccable, there could be no fault with his leadership.

“If I am acceptable to the board, I would be honored to serve Queen Consolidated,” Walter said.  

“I'm in total agreement with Mr. Queen; there is no one better equipped to lead QC,” Mrs. Bowen said.  She turned to look at Oliver.  “Although you said you envisioned co-CEOs?”

Nodding, Oliver leaned back once again.  “My co-CEO suggestion is a lifelong Starling City resident.  He comes from a family who have dedicated themselves to improving the health of people around the world, starting right here in our city.  This man also has experience forming his own business, one that is located in an area considered one of the worst parts of Starling City.”

The board members looked uncertain, like they were searching their minds for who could be the man Oliver was speaking of.  With a small smile, he stood up and walked to the door of the boardroom, gesturing.  

As Tommy walked slowly into the room, Oliver rested his hand on Tommy’s shoulder.  “Thomas Merlyn has been like a brother to me.  He was one of the heroes of the Undertaking, rescuing citizens from the path of destruction and receiving a life-changing injury in the process.  And given how capably his mother is running Merlyn Global, it seems like good business sense is in his blood.”

When Oliver finished speaking, there was a silence so profound, he could hear traffic from the street thirty-eight floors down.  And then the room erupted into chatter.  

“Think of the positive publicity--”

“We’ll look more like Merlyn Global--”

“It’s a fresh start for the company--”

Yet over all the voices, Oliver could hear the sound of ironic applause.  Within a moment, the board members heard it, too, and everyone turned to look at the source of the clapping: Isabel.

She brought her hands together two more times, then dropped her arms to her sides.  “Congratulations, Oliver.  I thought I had seen the true limits of your intelligence, so I’m shocked to discover that no, you are even dumber than I thought.  Mr. Steele is mostly unobjectionable, but Mr. Merlyn?  All his business experience is running a nightclub.  Any success he has had in that endeavor is more about his playboy past.”  

Oliver was ready to respond, but Tommy beat him to it.  “It’s been a long time since I was that.  I stopped living the playboy lifestyle around the same time I began studying for my business degree.”  

The sour lemon expression on Isabel’s face weakened, but she squared her shoulders and went on.  “That’s still not enough.  Besides, Oliver, you don’t think Rebecca Merlyn wouldn’t be livid at Queen Consolidated poaching her only son to run what used to be Merlyn Global’s biggest competitor?”  

Once again, Tommy answered the question, allowing Oliver to observe Isabel’s reaction.  “Actually, my mother is a smart businesswoman--but she’s also a good mother.  She knows I have no interest in working for Merlyn Global, not now that their sole focus is medical technology and hospital supplies.”  Tommy paused and set his jaw, looking straight at Isabel.  “I’ve had enough medical technology and hospitals to last me a lifetime.”

Most people in the room shifted uncomfortably, but not Isabel.  She looked annoyed, like she was starting to lose her temper.  Which meant it was time to pull out all the stops.

“Consider the recent history of Merlyn Global,” Oliver added.  “After the Undertaking, they were an even bigger PR and financial disaster than QC.  But after selling off their non-medical divisions and donating the proceeds to the rebuilding of the Glades . . . they aren’t held in suspicion like Queen Consolidated still is.”  

“It was rash and foolish,” Isabel argued.  “They sacrificed their long-term future because of negative publicity in the short-term.”

“Rebecca Merlyn is the greatest humanitarian this city has ever seen,” Mrs. Bowen replied, her voice like steel.  “If Queen Consolidated had acted more like Merlyn Global, we wouldn’t be in our current position.”  

Oliver stepped forward, walking down one side of the long table and meeting the eyes of the various board members.  “That’s why I want Tommy to be co-CEO.  He feels the same way his mother does about companies in this city: they exist to make better the lives of all citizens.  Combined with Walter’s business abilities, and Tommy’s own real-world knowledge, along with the support of this board . . . I think the sky’s the limit for Queen Consolidated.”  

As he approached Isabel at the head of the table, Oliver found himself smiling.  Isabel’s beautiful face looked like a mask and her admirable body was as stiff and rigid as a mannequin’s.  The truth was becoming clear to her: she was beaten.  

“You might have a large stake in Queen Consolidated, Isabel, but it’s not large enough to have total control,” Oliver said quietly.  “The Board of Trustees is still in charge, still capable of asking for and accepting resignations.”  

Reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, Oliver pulled out an envelope.  “Here’s my resignation, contingent upon the board asking for your resignation.  I’ll leave it up to them to decide if they want to appoint my suggested CEOs.”  

He placed the envelope on the table and turned, but then changed his mind and moved back towards Isabel.  Leaning in, Oliver spoke quietly in her ear.  

“But we both know they’re going to do it.  Because you’re done, Isabel.  Whatever your plan for Queen Consolidated, it’s failed.”  

When he leaned back, it was to see a woman defeated.  Isabel opened and closed her mouth a few times, her eyes scanning the faces of the board members.  Oliver glanced over his shoulder and felt a chill at how reserved and distant they all looked.  

“Ms. Rochev, on behalf of the Board of Trustees of Queen Consolidated--” Mr. Nickle began, but Isabel held up her hand and stopped him.

“You will have my resignation by five o’clock tonight,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.  

Then, her hands balled into fists at her sides, Isabel turned on her very high heels and walked out of the boardroom.

XXX

It had been years since he had felt like this. Everything in that boardroom had not only gone according to plan, but even better than he had expected. Even though the board members were of course quite conservative, and Tommy’s exploits as ‘Ollie's’ best bud were notorious, they also wanted the best for the company.  So they hadn’t found a flaw in his plan.  The fact that he had destroyed Isabel’s aspirations left him at an all-time high.

He felt good.  Extremely so. And there was just one person he wanted to share this moment with.  While there were still so many things up in the air, so many worries about Slade, he refused to think about them.  Not at this particular moment.  Focusing on right now was paramount for him.  Focusing on the only thing he wanted: getting to Felicity.

He had practically jumped out of the car as soon as Digg had pulled up to Verdant, with barely a goodbye to Tommy.  Oliver thought he heard chuckles from both Tommy and Digg, but he ignored them.  Instead, he moved forward inexorably, like a shark, entering the club and heading towards the secret entrance.  He didn’t bother trying to keep his steps quiet on the metal staircase--instead he clattered down to the lair, stopping right after the last step.

His arrival hadn't gone unnoticed by Felicity.  The woman in question, the woman he wanted to share his feelings of accomplishment with, was just standing up from her throne.  Her hair was loose, hanging over the shoulders of the dress she had changed into.  It was a gray sheath dress with blocks of orange at her waist, bisected by a thin black belt that matched her high heels.  Her air of professional sophistication took his breath away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but I really wish the security feed from QC had audio. No need for great quality or anything, but a little bit of sound would go a really long way. We need to look into that,” she said, sauntering towards him on those polished black heels, making his mind go somewhat fuzzy.  The big smile on her face finished the job, making him feel warm and dazed.

“I mean, I totally got the gist,” she continued, “just from the looks of it.  I’m telling you, though, and I know it’s not a lot of money, but I would have given at least half my savings to be able to listen to what was said in that conference room.”

“Is that so?” he asked, a small grin tugging on his lips.

The last thing he had expected to hear from Felicity when he arrived at the Foundry was this banter about the QC security feeds needing audio.  Then again, wasn’t that just like Felicity? The unique way her brain worked and her unusual perspective on the world made the improbable seem plausible in more ways than one.  It was like living in a monochromatic world, then waking up one day and being blinded with the dazzling colors of possibility.

“Like I said, not necessarily high quality audio or anything, but knowing what you were saying to Isabel to make her look like that?  And everything else that was said in that meeting?  Priceless,” she said, using her hands in the universal ‘make it rain’ gesture.  

Oliver laughed, shaking his head at just how amazing and adorable she was.  Then, schooling his expression into thoughtfulness, he took a daring step towards her.  

“I see.  Well, I don’t want to take half your savings . . . so would  you be interested in negotiating, Miss Smoak?” he asked, knowing his blue eyes were glinting with mischief.

“Negotiate?” she asked, tilting her head at him.

“Let’s say, I had considered the possibility of inquiring minds, such as yours, being curious the meeting,” Oliver said, sliding his hands into his pockets, solely so he didn’t reach out for her.  Because the anticipation was crackling through him, like electricity, charging the air around them.  It was an intoxicating feeling.

“I do hate mysteries,” she admitted.

“And taking that into consideration, I might or might not have recorded the whole meeting with my phone,” Oliver said, taking the sleek device from the pocket of his grey slacks, tapping the knuckles of his free hand with the metal case. “Would you be willing to negotiate for that recording, Miss Smoak?”

“Oh . . . you are good,” Felicity breathed out, taking a few more steps his way, a saucy look of admiration on her face.

God, what she was doing to him . . . Oliver swallowed and spoke.  “So, are you ready to open up negotiations?”

“No,” Felicity answered with a shake of her head and a shrug.

“No?” he parroted, feeling confused.  Had he misread this?  Did she not feel the anticipation like he did?

“If you had recorded the whole conversation on your phone, Mr. Queen, I technically wouldn’t need to negotiate for it,” Felicity said.  She hooked her thumb over her shoulder, towards her computers.  “You would have had to save the file--and any businessman of your caliber knows about contingency plans.  As do I, which is why I have all the files that are downloaded, uploaded, saved or made on _that_ phone, the one you’re holding right now, automatically stored in a private, heavily encrypted, cloud server.”

Oliver couldn’t help snorting, a small sound that was half-chuckle, half-scoff.  His admiration for her, already sky-high, went up another notch at how she had outmaneuvered him.

“Aren’t you even a little bit curious though? About what I would’ve brought to the table in our negotiations?” he asked, easily falling back into their banter.  Feeling the electricity crackle again.

“Like I said, I do hate mysteries,” Felicity mused with pursed lips and a few more steps his way. “You are a ruthless businessman, though, so answer me this. Do you really have an audio file? Of the whole enchilada?”

“I do,” Oliver replied, thinking to himself that he never wanted to bluff Felicity Smoak.

She smiled at him, drawing in so close to him.  “And your demands, Mr. Queen?”

Dinner.

Snocones.

A whole day away from the team, just him and her, doing something spontaneous yet simple. Maybe go to another park, have a picnic, sit and talk and laugh. Really . . . her. It all boiled down to spending as much time with her as he could. Not worrying about Slade’s next move or his impending return back to his grey and dull universe. No.  His sole demand, his only request, his plea even--whatever they wanted to call it--was for time . . . time with Felicity, the blonde genius who had somehow stolen his heart in the short amount of time he had been around her.

There was just something about her that made today’s success even better. He had been right:  there was no one else he wanted to share it with. And that left him speechless. The level of rightness struck him like a blow to the chest and the words got stuck in his throat.  

After a long moment of silence, Felicity looked hesitant for the first time since he had stepped into the lair.  “Oliver?”

With words not possible, he just beamed down at her.  Giving her the most sincere, happy smile he possessed, before lifting her into a hug and spinning with her in his arms.   

She was as light as a feather, her arms warm around his neck.  Felicity let out a sound of delight at his sudden action, which made him go even faster.  The way her dainty hands clutched at his shoulders made him gradually slow down.  As he lowered her down his body, he savored the contact between them, the way the electrical connection was completed and sparking with life.  Once she was on her own two feet again, Oliver didn't let her go. Couldn’t. Both his hands were latched onto her waist as he looked into her eyes, the clash of blue on blue sizzling with crackling electricity.

Oliver didn’t ask for permission, because , the acceptance was written all over her face as he leaned down, his fingers curling in the fabric of her dress and pulling her even closer to his body. Part of him wished he could freeze this moment forever--but there was just so much more to be had than an enticing possibility.  The anticipation wasn’t enough to satisfy him now.  

She was real. The warmth he felt in his palms, the sparkling blue eyes behind her dual-toned glasses, the perfectly fuschia pink lips, parting as she waited for him. It was all real and he wanted it.  Wanted her.  He rested his forehead on hers and nudged the side of her nose with his own.  The minty freshness of her breath caressed his lips as a soft sigh of surprise escaped her, teasing him for a delicious second.

He lifted his head to look down at her, staying only a few inches apart. This was it.  Oliver felt it down to his very bones, his whole body seeming to vibrate from deep within as he leaned down once more, his intentions obvious. His target? Those lips that he had wanted to taste almost from the moment he had been dropped in this world of super heroes.

A slight popping sound, a distortion of air, and the touch of fibers brushing against the underside of his nose made him recoil.  

Without conscious thought, Oliver shifted to move Felicity to stand behind him.  A few days before today, he would have been none the wiser.  A few days ago, he wouldn’t have known what had just happened.  Not now, though.  The pop had been the release of a bowstring, the distortion of air and the wisp of sound, that of an arrow flying its course. And the brush under his nose?  The fletching at the end of the arrow had tickled his skin, chillingly demonstrating just how close the call had been, before the arrow had embedded itself in the pillar behind them. Instinctively, he stood before the dazed genius and protected her with his body, turning himself to face the way the arrow had come.

“Get _away_ from her!”

The voice modulator shouldn’t have had an effect on him, not when he recognized the voice behind it, not when _he_ had used it.  And yet, it still made his blood cool and his heart hammer even faster than before. From the shadows, a bow appeared with another arrow, bearing an emerald green arrow head, already nocked and ready to fly. The figure which emerged, holding the bow with impeccable expertise, was the last person he had ever expected to see face to face. It was a horrible sense of deja vu, the feelings churning within his body similar to those when he had watched Slade Wilson burst into the foundry after blowing up the side entrance.

Standing tall, in a deep green suit that was similar to the one he had worn, save the lack of sleeves, the man before them had his features shrouded by the hood of his suit as well as a black mask.  It was the man who made evildoers in Starling City run in fear. The emerald archer himself.

It was the Arrow.

It was Oliver Queen.  

This universe’s Oliver Queen.

“You will not get another warning,” he said in a low, raspy tone, promising he would gladly carry through on his threat.  “Get. Away. From. Her. _Now_!”

End, Chapter 8  
  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are y’all doing? Feeling recovered from the last chapter yet? Here’s hoping this chapter lets you catch your breath a little . . . once you get past TWO OLIVERS. :-)

 

Staring at an arrow pointed straight at him, held with unwavering expertise by a man in green leather and a hood, Oliver could understand how the Arrow had been so effective at fighting crime in this universe.  Because his errors were minor, yet Oliver felt like he was on the verge of wetting himself.  How would a criminal feel in this moment?  

“I told you to get away from her!” the Arrow barked.  

Oliver felt a flutter of annoyance.  Could this guy say anything other than some variation of ‘get away from her’?  

“I know this must seem . . . bad,” Oliver said, fumbling for words.  He held one hand up as he stretched his other arm back, trying to hold Felicity in place.  “But I promise, I’m not a threat here.”  

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the Arrow replied in a growl, eyes narrowing.

“Oliver, would you _stop_ ?  And Oliver, how _could_ you?”

The arrow lowered ever-so-slightly, the Arrow tilting his head to the side.  Oliver frowned and looked over his shoulder at Felicity.  “Which Oliver should stop?”

“You _both_ should,” Felicity snapped, pushing his arm up and ducking underneath it to come out from behind him.  She gave him a glare, then turned towards the Oliver from this universe.  It shouldn’t be possible, but her glare grew even icier when she was looking at him.  

“What were you _thinking_ , shooting an arrow at us?  You have had some crappy ideas, Oliver Jonas Queen, but that might have been your worst one yet!”  

Oliver winced a little at just how loud Felicity’s voice was.  He had no idea so much volume could come from such a small body, but it could--it was happening right now.  

The Arrow seemed just as vulnerable to Felicity’s voice, because he was slowly lowering his bow and arrow.  “Excuse me? Felicity, how do you think this looked like to me? Coming in here and seeing you with--with--”  

“With someone who looks just like you--yes, I know, Oliver. But if you had come back on time, he wouldn’t even be here,” Felicity said, putting her hands on her hips.  “It’s one thing to be late to every other occasion imaginable to man but being late _this_ time? Really? What took you so long?  You were in a _time machine,_ Oliver!  You should have been able to come back when you said you would!”

At that, the Arrow blew out a breath and returned the arrow to his quiver.  He let his bow hang at his side.  “Felicity, it’s not like I know how to pilot the Waverider.  You’d have to ask Sara why we’re back late.”  He paused, eyeing Felicity.  “Just how late are we?”  

“Over a week,” Felicity replied, turning her back on him.  She looked at Oliver and tried to smile.  “No injuries from Oliver’s decision to play William Tell on us?”  

Shaking his head, Oliver marveled at her.  She effortlessly switched between yelling at the Arrow and making jokes with him.  She was amazing.  

“What happened to the door?” the original Oliver asked, gesturing towards the side entrance to the lair, the one that had been covered with a sheet of plywood.  But now there was a new door installed, which must have been how he had entered the basement.

“We had to replace it.  Digg and Roy handled it earlier today,” Felicity said over her shoulder.  “And speaking of Digg--Oliver, where is he?”  

Since she was looking at him, Oliver assumed she meant him and not the other Oliver.  “I left him upstairs with Tommy . . . um, I was in a hurry.”  

“A hurry?” the other Oliver asked, his voice sounding a bit more menacing than it had before.  

“Yeah, a hurry,” Oliver snapped.  “I wanted to share the good news with Felicity.”  

Making a dramatic, albeit very cool flourish with his bow, the Arrow Oliver stepped closer, until the three of them were arranged in a triangular formation, each person as a point.  “And you needed to use your whole body to do that?”  

Before Oliver could say anything, Felicity exclaimed loudly, “Enough!”  

There was a clattering on the stairs and the three of them looked over to see Digg and Tommy hurrying down the steps, Digg with his gun drawn.  By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, however, both of them had matching shocked expressions.  

“Wow,” Digg breathed out.  

“Well, this is . . . awkward,” Tommy said.  His eyes flicked back and forth between the two men who both answered to the name of Oliver.  “There’s two of them now.”

“Tell me about it,” Felicity muttered under her breath.  Then she straightened her shoulders and stepped away, moving towards Digg and Tommy.  “There is a lot to discuss but none of that can happen if you two can’t coexist with each other.”  

Felicity’s words might be directed at both of them, but Oliver could see how her eyes were fixed on this universe’s Oliver Queen.  The man in green leather looked rigid and tense.  Like he was fighting with everything he had not to lash out.  To fire an arrow into his doppelganger and remove this threat.

And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the tension flowed out of him.  His shoulders dropped and his hand eased its hold on the bow.  He nodded and reached up, drawing back his hood and pulling his mask down to hang around his neck.  

Oliver felt his breath catch as he saw the man’s profile.  It was . . . odd.  Unsettling.  That man looked exactly like him.  Yet he wasn’t him.  It was like unexpectedly catching sight of someone and realizing it was yourself.  There was a similar disorientation, as if he had inadvertently looked into a mirror and not expected to see himself.  Yet in that kind of situation, the disorientation lasted only a moment before you realized that it was you.  In this case . . . there was no realization.    

It only got worse when the other Oliver turned his head and looked right at him.  Oliver could see the discomfort in the other man’s eyes, a discomfort that must be mirrored in his own.  After a few seconds, the man switched his gaze from Oliver back to Felicity.

“Okay,” he said heavily, placing his bow on the metal table off to his left.  “What’s going on?”  

Felicity gave him a smile that while not filled with her usual sparkle, certainly had a warmth and pride that gave Oliver a fleeting sense of jealousy.  “A lot.  Obviously.  In the spirit of being a good sport and not holding the whole ‘shooting an arrow in my general direction’ thing against you, um, why don’t you go first?”

“Felicity,” Digg and the other Oliver said in unison.  Digg stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder.  “You know we have to go first.”  

The blonde genius nodded, looking a bit crestfallen, before visibly squaring her shoulders.  “Yeah, you’re right. I hate it when you defeat me with logic.”  

Digg patted her shoulder and then looked at the Arrow, folding his arms over his chest.  Tommy, meanwhile, had shuffled over to Felicity’s chair and dropped down into it.  He was the only person, other than Felicity, whom Oliver had seen sit in that chair.  

“When you weren’t back in a week, we figured it was taking you longer than you anticipated to get the mirakuru,” Digg began, his attitude calm and focused.  “But then, we started getting intel that Slade was moving faster with creating his army than we thought.  When we were on patrol, Thea and Roy and I, we could see the signs.  It was just a matter of time before he launched an attack.”  

“That’s when we got our idea,” Felicity said, courageously taking over telling the story.  “Mostly it was my idea and it was one of those, ‘worse case scenario’ ones that just pop into your head and seems so crazy that it has to work. The idea being to . . . to send Barry into the past and bring you here, a you from a few months ago.  As a placeholder.”  

The leather of his suit creaked slightly as the Arrow Oliver crossed his arms over his chest.  “I see.”  

“We sent you messages,” Felicity reminded him.  “And you were late.  We didn’t know what else to do!”

“Felicity,” the other Oliver sighed, holding up one hand.  “I’m not upset with the decision.  Given the circumstances . . . it wasn’t a bad one.” He paused and looked over at Oliver.  “Although I’m wondering why he’s wearing one of my suits.  And why my old set of leathers is on that mannequin.”

“In a nutshell?  Barry fucked up.”  

Digg covered his mouth with one hand, like he was trying to hold back laughter.  But Felicity turned to glare at the chair in front of her computers, where the explanation had originated.  “Tommy!”

Tommy raised his hands in the air.  “Don’t yell at the only one who’s willing to be blunt about it.  I’ve told you before that Barry, while a great kid, is still pretty new at this hero business.  Let alone the time travel.”

“What did Barry do?” this universe’s Oliver asked, the command in his voice immediately cutting off the potential argument between Felicity and Tommy.  Oliver couldn’t help admiring that ability, even if he didn’t want to admire anything about this man who had jerked Felicity around so much.  

Lifting a hand, Felicity raised her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose.  “Instead of running into the past, Barry somehow ran into another universe.  He spotted ‘you’ in front of the Queen Consolidated building and grabbed ‘you’.  Only it wasn’t you, it was, well, him,” Felicity said, gesturing towards him.  

The Arrow looked at Oliver, his eyes measuring.  Making Oliver feel like he was coming up short.

“And, what, you just happen to look exactly like me?”

Oliver shook his head in answer to his counterpart’s question.  “No--I had long hair.  In my universe, I’m the CEO at Queen Consolidated.”  

A myriad of emotions washed over the other man’s face.  Oliver could sense he must have a thousand questions he wanted to ask.  Questions about his universe, what was different and what wasn’t--probably starting with his parents and Laurel, if what the team had said about this Oliver was anything to go by.  

Yet the question he did ask made Oliver realize this Oliver Queen, while not seen as intelligent or business-minded, actually had the instincts of a killer shark.  

“So why did you cut your hair?”  

Felicity blanched and the amusement lingering in Digg’s eyes from Tommy’s interjection faded.  They were nervous about the reaction to the rest of the story, obviously.  And Oliver wanted to spare them from that.  Wanted to show he was part of the team.  So he turned to the original Oliver and said, “I agreed to pretend to be you, in every way that was needed.  Including being the Arrow.”  

With only eighteen words, Oliver realized, he had totally poured gasoline on a dying fire--causing the flames to flare up into an overwhelming intensity.  

The other Oliver’s eyebrows drew together, his face flushing.  “What?!?” he yelled.  “What does that even mean? You’ve been pretending to be me?  To who have you been pretending?”  He paused, his expression growing darker.  “If you’ve done anything to my sister--”  

“Oliver!” Tommy said, stepping over and taking his best friend’s arm.  “Thea is fine.  She knew--so did Roy, and Charlie, and me.  And we’re all fine.”  

Oliver yanked his arm out of Tommy’s grip and stepped back.  “What were you thinking?” he asked, his eyes locking onto Digg and Felicity.  “Do you have any idea how dangerous--how reckless this was?  How could you trust him?  Just because he looks like me doesn’t mean he _is_ me!”  

As he listened to this universe’s Oliver lose his temper, Oliver felt his own start to spark.  He tried to tamp it down, reminding himself of the shock the man must be experiencing.  Remembering his own feelings when he had first arrived here.  Yet the longer the Arrow yelled at the two most loyal members of his team, the harder it was to keep himself calm.  

“We needed you _here_!” Felicity argued, finally getting a word in edgewise.  “But you’ve been so twisted up by everything for the last year, you weren’t ready to face Slade!  Sara could have gone after the mirakuru by herself, but we--”  

Her voice broke off and she looked down, her shoulders heaving.  Oliver watched as Felicity’s fear and worry and pain broke through the cloud of anger surrounding his alternate.  Like something out of a fairy tale, he lost all his bark.  When he spoke, his voice was soft and gentle.  “You . . . what?”  

Felicity sighed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t speak.  Digg rubbed her shoulder, then looked at his team leader.  “We needed a break.  All of us.  We hoped that spending some time with Sara might help you get your head on straight, man.”  

The Oliver in leather let out a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face.  “Okay.  Maybe that’s true. But I still don’t see the reason to take a random guy who just looks like me on board.  If Slade walked in here, he’d know in five seconds flat that he isn’t me.”  

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you left, then.”  

Everyone turned to stare at Oliver, their faces all showing a varying degree of surprise.  Oliver was surprised, too.  He didn’t think his voice could be that cold, that cutting.  But seeing Felicity bow her head to hide her glassy, tear-filled eyes had brought out a new side of him.

“Maybe if you thought about the team instead of brooding like a ten-year-old with a crush, this never would have happened,” Oliver continued, all his attention focused on the mirror image version of himself.  Dimly, he heard noise on the stairs but ignored it, in order to finish making his point.  

“Maybe if you hadn’t gone running off with your ex--and the sister of your crush--for sexcapades through time, your team wouldn’t have needed _me_ ,” Oliver said.  “But you did.  So maybe you should stop acting so betrayed and listen to what’s happened while you were gone.”  

“There were no sexcapades through time.”  

Frowning, Oliver turned his head towards the speaker, who was flanked by Thea and Roy: a muscled blonde with a dimpled chin and world-weary yet mischievous blue eyes.  She lifted a hand and waggled her fingers.  “Sara Lance.  Said ex and sister of crush.”  

She paused, then gestured towards the stunning, dark-haired woman behind her.  “And this is my wife, Nyssa,” she introduced with a mischievous grin. “Now, I don’t know what’s going on, but I used to have dreams that started just like this.”

The blonde was someone that Oliver had never seen before.  Frowning, he ducked his head in embarrassment.  So, no sexcapades through space and time. Good to know . . . although now that he realized he had misread the situation so completely, he felt like an ass.  It was bad enough to be proven so wrong in front of the rest of the team.  But he could also feel the harsh stare of the original Oliver on him.  

XXX

If anyone had told her earlier this morning that she would have been in this situation, Felicity would have laughed hysterically. Sure, there had been a teeny tiny possibility that Oliver would make it back at any moment--that part wasn’t surprising at all.  The part that _was_ surprising, bordering on hilarious, was the fact he would arrive at the precise moment he did.

Mind boggling much?

Yes, she understood how freaky it all was. It was bad enough that he was witnessing someone who looked just like him, someone who could have been just about anyone or anything. Metahuman shapeshifter pretending to be him?  An Oliver clone created by Slade to do his bidding?  Evil twin of doom from god knows where?  Oh no. She was well aware of all the ways there could be another Oliver and why his mind had immediately leaped to something dangerous.

Making it even worse, he had just so happened to arrive in time for a major mind frack: watching himself do something he probably hadn’t ever considered doing, not even in the most delirious moments of his life. And with all the times with untreated fevers and not enough painkillers and trips down Vertigo Lane, those mind-altered moments were probably racking up points like crazy.

No.

He just had to arrive as she and Oliver--damn, she really needed to come up with a way to differentiate between the two of them in conversation--were about to kiss. Because there was no doubt in her mind that was where they were headed. At least, that was what she had been going for. Hell, she had even gotten somewhat of an eskimo kiss!

Close, but no cigar, as they say. Thanks a lot, Oliver . . . other Oliver . . . Arrow Oliver! She mentally fist pumped at that. Arrow Oliver and Business Oliver. That was how she would differentiate them in her brain . . . though what came out of her mouth would probably be something completely different.

Felicity knew she wasn’t the universe’s favorite, she was well aware of that fact, but it seemed almost cruel to her that the interruption had happened at that specific moment in time.

Couldn’t get away with one, tiny, kiss, now could she? No . . . Of course that was too much to ask for.

And the fact that Oliver had shot at them? Ooooh, there would be words at some point. Louder words than she had already used--and some that she didn’t use most of the time, just for the shock factor.  Cussing wasn’t really what she was known for, but she would save that trump card for later. That was something Arrow Oliver was not going to live down any time soon. Now all she had to do was make sure they didn’t kill each other. Though an Oliver vs. Oliver match sounded quite appetizing in her brain.

She felt a flutter of embarrassment, before she tamped it down.  Guys could be all about mud and jello fights between busty women but she couldn’t let her brain go there even a _little_ bit? Of course her brain had gone there . . . and way, _way_ , past that.  But she wasn’t telling anyone that. Two Olivers in one room was the naughty start of a Felicity’s own personal porn movie--and something no one had the rights to except for her brain and herself . . . and probably Sara.

“Sara!” she exclaimed after the former assassin unknowingly came very close to Felicity’s thoughts.  Not out of shock or embarrassment, though--no, she was thrilled that Sara was here.  The arrival of her friend was just the thing to get Felicity out of her mix of exhilaration, anger, lust and funk.

“Sorry for showing up late,” Sara said breezily. “We had a bit of a problem with Gideon and finding the right pocket in time to retrieve the mirakuru cure.”

Felicity engulfed the other blonde in a hug, making sure it was a quick one just in case, before releasing her and giving Nyssa a playful whap on the arm.  Trying to act completely normal, like there wasn’t two Olivers here, who weren’t acting like two puppies trying to stake their territory.  

“Married then? Mazel tov, you guys!”

“Thank you,” Nyssa said seriously, with a slight incline of her head.  “The man in the tin suit officiated.”

“During a shootout in the Wild Wild West.  Couldn’t have been a better setting if you ask me,” Sara offered with a shrug.

“Very . . . unique,” Felicity offered, trying not to cringe at the idea. Leave it to two of the deadliest women on the planet to get married while bullets were flying and death was probably happening around them. “I take it there was no online registry for a new coffee maker or maybe a slow cooker?”

“You’re still cute,” Sara grinned, the tone of her voice saying she wanted to boop Felicity on the nose.

Instead, with her hands resting firmly on her hips, she moved forward and came to stand where Felicity had been before, the third point to the Oliver triangle.

“I wish I could say this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s not even close. Still, it’s kind of freaky,” she said.  Then she let out a hearty laugh.  “Oh my god, they even have the same ‘what the hell, Sara’ look!” she exclaimed in amusement, using one of her hands to point at one Oliver and then the other.

“At least _someone_ has the right mindset and is having some fun with this whole thing,” Felicity ventured, looking pointedly towards Arrow Oliver, who looked slightly exasperated by the statement. “Where are the others?” she asked, turning her attention back to Nyssa.

“They decided to visit Big Belly Burger, since the franchise has been lacking in several of our last stops through time,” the brunette explained.

“And someone was in too much of a hurry to let us eat first,” Sara groused, eyeing Arrow Oliver.

“Ooh, how about an impromptu wedding dinner slash catching up slash feed the hungry IT girl thing?”

“Felicity . . . ” The man in the leather suit began.

“How about some Thai?” Felicity barrelled ahead, ignoring the imposing man in green.

“I could go for some Thai food,” Sara piped up immediately, grinning evilly towards the original Oliver. “Relax, Ollie. She did say it was partially a ‘catch up’ dinner, after all.”

Diggle, seemingly catching on to the double-teaming blonde duo, straightened up from where he had been leaning and looked right at the Arrow.

“You know getting between Felicity and her food spells disaster, man,” he offered, then motioned with his head towards the back of the foundry. “Go get changed, I can brief you a little on the way to the restaurant.”

It wasn’t that she became a complete monster when she didn’t have food--that actually only happened when she didn't have coffee--but Felicity was known to use her Loud Voice a bit more ruthlessly when she was working on an empty stomach.  Her boys knew that. And even though he didn’t seem pleased, Oliver, in all of his imposing green get-up, resigned himself to go with the majority vote.  He didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded once and started heading for the changing room at the back of the lair.

“Make sure Felicity’s pad thai doesn’t have shrimp.”

The statement made Felicity shift her gaze towards the suit-wearing Oliver, whose eyes were steady on his doppleganger.

“Excuse me?”

Annnnnd just like that, the growly Arrow tone of voice was back in play.

“Felicity’s food. You need to make sure there’s no shrimp,” Oliver said again, seemingly undaunted by the obviously sullen reaction to his statement.

“Felicity is allergic to shellfish,” he continued, boldly stepping closer to the blonde as he stared down his counterpart. “Though, I’m sure you knew that. Right?”

It was a good thing that Oliver had left his bow behind, on a table that was several feet out of reach.  Or else, Felicity was sure that the Oliver standing next to her would have resembled a kebab in two seconds flat. She was surprised that Oliver took that bit of a jab at Oliver--that is, Business Oliver had tried to poke the bear that was Arrow Oliver--but she couldn’t really say she wasn’t even a little bit pleased.

“Oliver,” Diggle said firmly and then pointed towards the back of the foundry again.

Thank goodness Diggle had such a strong moral compass, Oliver had no choice but to pay heed to his order.

“We really should pay closer attention to that Allen kid’s fuck-ups, because this is pretty epic. Are they always this entertaining?” Sara asked, walking over to Tommy and throwing one of her arms around his shoulders affectionately.

“Best one so far,” Tommy said, grinning up at her.  “And you don’t know the half of it.”  

Actually, Tommy didn’t know the half of it.  Felicity glanced at Business Oliver, wondering what he was thinking, what he was feeling.  If he regretted missing out on their kiss like she did.  

How did Arrow Oliver feel about what he had interrupted, too?  What was he thinking?

XXX

If Thea was here, she would probably accuse him of pouting.  He could practically hear her teasing tones.  “Uh-oh, Ollie Queen’s not getting his way--time for him to make everyone around him miserable!”

Which wasn’t fair.  He hadn’t been like that for years.  Not since he and Sara had been thrown out of their bed in the stateroom they had been sharing on the Queen’s Play.  Not after everything he had gone through on Lian Yu, in Hong Kong, in Russia . . .

Still, he thought he was entitled to a few moments of being disgruntled and unhappy.  Because . . . _what the hell_?!?

Yes, he had been late getting back--which wasn’t his fault.  It was the nature of time travel, at least as practiced by Sara and her team.  He hadn’t thought his team would go out and--and try to replace him, just because he was a few days late!  

Not that they had found a real replacement, Oliver thought, his lips twisting.  The guy looked like him, yeah, but . . . he wasn’t him.  He hadn’t faced the fire like Oliver had, the fire which had shaped and forged him into the weapon he was now.  

Could this guy go up against Slade and survive?  Oliver didn’t think so.  He hoped the team hadn’t tried to trick Slade with this guy, but he suspected they had.  Why else would his old suit be back on the mannequin in the lair?  Why else had no one answered his question about that very matter?

Yet such a ruse was doomed to failure.  There was no way Slade would have been fooled by an imposter.  What were the chances this guy even knew how to fight, let alone could use a bow?

“If my mother was here right now, she’d be really worried about your face, man.”  

Digg’s voice was full of amusement, but underneath, Oliver could hear the concern.  It was the concern that made him hold back his snap response and actually think about what Digg had said.  “What do you mean?” he asked, when he was unable to figure it out.  

“With the faces you’re making, you better be careful or it’ll freeze that way,” Digg said, glancing over at Oliver before returning his eyes to the road.  

With a quiet huff, Oliver leaned his head back against his seat.  “I suppose you think I’m blowing this out of proportion.”  

“Only when you started yelling at Felicity alone,” Digg replied.  “We all agreed on this, Oliver.  We needed you.  And it’s not about being late getting back,” Digg said, cutting off his objection.  “We’ve needed you for this past year, but you haven’t really been here.  You’ve been so caught up in your own head, in missing Laurel . . .”  

As always, the thought of Laurel sent a shot of pain through him.  A pain borne of the knowledge that no matter how much he had tried, he hadn’t been able to rebuild his relationship with her.  It hadn’t seemed to matter what he did or said--she always took it the wrong way.  She was always expecting the worst of him, based on his history . . . and he knew that wasn’t how a relationship should work.  

It had made him start believing he wasn’t cut out for a relationship.  No matter how much he wanted to have someone--to have what Digg had or even what Thea had--he didn’t deserve that.  After all, if he couldn’t make something work with Laurel, the woman who had known him his whole life, the woman he had confessed all his secrets to . . . then there couldn’t be a woman who would be willing to love all the parts of him.  

Oliver wasn’t a fool.  He knew how Digg felt, since the former soldier hadn’t exactly been subtle.  Digg thought Oliver was ignoring Felicity and her very real feelings for him, in order to chase after a partnership with Laurel that wouldn’t make him happy like one with Felicity would.  

What his partner didn’t know was that Oliver _was_ ignoring Felicity’s feelings.  For her own good.  

“Laurel knows everything about me.  She was what got me through my time on Lian Yu,” Oliver said slowly.  “But I still don’t understand why we couldn’t make it work.”  

The only sound in the car was the soft _fwap-fwap-fwap_ of the windshield wipers moving back and forth.  Then, Digg spoke.  

“I think it didn’t work with you and Laurel because you were trying to change each other--save each other.  But love isn’t about changing or saving a person.  It’s about finding the person who’s already the right fit,” Digg said softly.  “And I think when Laurel figured that out, that’s when she took the job in Ivy Town.  I kept waiting to see you realize that, too, but when it had been a year and you were still the same Oliver . . .”  

“You packed me off with Sara for some time to clear my head,” Oliver said dully.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Digg nod.  “Yeah.  I hope you did.”  

Oliver snorted.  “Well, if it was clear before, it’s not anymore.  Not after what I came back to.”  

“Yeah . . . that must have been pretty freaky,” Digg acknowledged.  

“More than freaky,” Oliver said, trying to hold back his shudder.  “It’s . . . well, there needs to be a word stronger than ‘freaky’.”  

Just looking at his doppleganger was enough to set his teeth on edge.  Oliver didn’t know how the team could have accepted him as easily as they apparently had.  Not just as a teammate, either.  The guy knew about Felicity’s shellfish allergy, for God’s sake. 

“It’s strange for us, too,” Digg said, displaying that uncanny ability of his to see into Oliver’s head.  “Especially with the things he’s good at.  Do you know what he was doing earlier today?”  

Oliver shook his head, his eyebrows narrowing.  It was something good--he remembered the guy saying he had good news to share with Felicity.  

Share . . . by hugging her.  By spinning her around in the air.  By drawing her close, his eyes fixed on her perfectly pink lips . . .

Shoving aside the uncomfortable feelings his thoughts were creating, Oliver focused on the matter at hand.  “What did he do?”  

Digg looked over at Oliver.  “He got Isabel to resign, and convinced the board to install Walter and Tommy as the new CEOs.”  

Blinking, Oliver stared at Digg.  The thought of never having to deal with Isabel Rochev again . . . well, it was a really good feeling.  Plus, he couldn’t think of anyone he trusted more with his family’s company than Walter and Tommy.  Walter with all his financial knowledge and Tommy with his practical business experience--it was perfect.  Best of all, it meant he wasn’t the one responsible.  He wouldn’t have to split himself between his position at Queen Consolidated and the position that mattered most: being the Arrow.  He would never have to sit through another boring Board of Trustees meeting, feeling like a fraud and hoping no one else noticed how he was faking it.  

Why hadn’t he thought of a plan like this?  It was _perfect_.  

“Wow,” Oliver said, breathing out.  

“I know,” Digg said.  “I’m telling you, you might be wondering how we could have trusted him.  But within minutes of meeting him, I felt the same kind of thing as when I met you.  The real you, not the spoiled ass you were pretending to be still.”  

Oliver looked down, smiling a little as he remembered those early days between them.  When he was ditching Digg at every turn, trying to outrun the knowing eyes of his bodyguard.  If it hadn’t been for a curare-laced bullet from Deadshot, they might not have ever formed the partnership they had now.  

And he would probably be dead.  No--not probably.  Definitely.

“So you’re saying I should give this guy a shot,” Oliver said, not even asking a question.  Because as much as Digg could read Oliver’s mind, Oliver usually had a good sense of how Digg was thinking.  

“I think if we’re going to take out Slade, we could use all the help we can get.  And the other Oliver--he can help.  He might have been a CEO in his universe, but he’s not bad in a fight,” Digg said.  

Sighing, Oliver turned his head to look out the window.  He saw the sense in what Digg was saying.  It was true: they needed help with Slade.  That was why he had agreed with the team when they suggested he go with Sara to find the mirakuru.  He thought with some time together, getting to know her team, he might be able to convince them to help him with Slade.  He had succeeded--yet that didn’t mean he should turn down another set of hands.  

Add in the fact the other Oliver had actually done good, had found a way to let him really focus on being the Arrow . . . it was obvious why everyone thought he should trust him.  It was hard to trust a stranger, though.  Even one who looked just like him.  

Yet the idea of that Oliver becoming even more entrenched in the team, getting closer to Felicity . . . what if he decided to stay?  

That was getting way ahead of things, though, Oliver told himself.  The first priority was dealing with Slade--if they couldn’t defeat the super-solider, then nothing else mattered.  Digg’s vouching for his counterpart’s abilities went a long way.  If Digg thought he could handle himself, he probably could.  

As much as Oliver respected Digg, though, he wasn’t going to take on anyone without making sure they wouldn’t be a liability in the field.  So he needed to guarantee the CEO from another universe could stand toe-to-toe with the other vigilantes on the team.  

“If I took this guy on, I’m going to want to test him myself,” Oliver finally said.  “I want to see how good he is with my own eyes.”  

Digg nodded.  “Of course.  I think he’s got some ability to strategize, too--he’s got the same kind of out-of-the-box thinking that you’ve shown.”  

Intellectually, Oliver knew that was a good thing.  But emotionally, he felt the bitter pricking of jealousy.  Was there anything this guy _couldn’t_ do?

“What do you mean by that?” Oliver asked instead of whining.  

His partner shifted a little in his seat.  “Well . . .”  

“Just tell me,” Oliver said with a sigh.  “So much has happened, I don’t think I could be mad about anything.”  

“Oh, I doubt that.  But at least this way, you can blow your top with me and then be calm when we get back,” Digg said, pulling the car into a parking spot in front of the Thai restaurant the team frequented.  He turned off the car and faced Oliver before he spoke.

“The other Oliver was backed into a corner, because Slade took Thea.  So he told Slade how he was from another universe, how he got here . . . and how Barry could take Slade to another universe, one where Shado was still alive,” Digg laid out, his eyes steady as he looked at Oliver.  

Oliver took a deep breath.  Well, he had been right: he wasn’t mad.  No, he was experiencing a very different emotion.  He was . . . envious.  Of course they wouldn’t let Slade go to another universe--that was without question.  But the idea that maybe there was a universe where Oliver himself would fit, where there would be a woman who was the perfect fit . . .

“It--it might help,” Oliver said, swallowing.  “Keep Slade distracted, off-balance.  Because all he wants is to have Shado back--I think he wants that more than he wants to destroy everyone I love.”  

Reaching out, Digg rested his hand on Oliver’s shoulder.  “We’re not going to let that happen, Oliver.  None of us.”  

With a nod, Oliver released his seatbelt and opened the car door.  His throat was too tight to allow him to speak.  Thankfully, Digg understood.  

At least, Digg thought he understood.  But he knew there was no way Digg was aware of everything Oliver was thinking.

End, Chapter 9


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that hiatus of ours turned out to be a bit longer than we expected! Thanks to Nano and real life, things got a bit crazy for both of us. However, we took advantage of the break to get a bit ahead of the game, so we don’t think there will be any further delays for the fic. And that is a very good thing, because y’all are in for some roller-coaster action over the next few chapters. 
> 
>  
> 
> But first, let’s see how the two Olivers are getting along inside the suddenly-too-small-for-Felicity’s-liking lair . . .

 

“I feel like this needs to be asked.”  Caitlin’s soft voice came from Felicity’s right.  “How, exactly, do you manage to get your work done around here?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? Or, more accurately, the two billion dollar question, considering the reasons for Felicity’s current state of distraction were two very handsome, very sweaty, billionaires. 

From the corner of her eye she could see Caitlin, the auburn haired doctor’s head tilted to the side while facing forward. A quick peek to her other side showed Felicity that Sara was doing pretty much the same. 

The group of women were standing behind Felicity’s bank of computers, just . . . taking in the view.

Grunt.

Clank.

Grunt.

Clank.

“Well, usually there’s only just the one of him, running around the lair and training shirtless, but even then, I will admit, it’s a bit of a struggle,” the blonde genius admitted.

And now, it was double the trouble. It seemed like every time she looked anywhere in the lair, there was an Oliver ready to catch her attention. Things had started innocently enough that morning upon her arrival.  She had even brought coffee for everyone, because having the whole team sufficiently caffeinated was the only real path towards surviving the day, in her opinion.

But somewhere around ten a.m., things had taken a turn towards uptight-topia and tense-ville. Not her favorite fake and awkward cities, if she was honest. It was as if the two men who shared the same features were magnets. If one of them got close to the other, for any reason, they repelled each other. The tension escalated quickly, although there was no obvious outwards hostility from either man.

Then, for lack of anything better to do, the Olivers started training.  And her brain had gotten fried. Utterly, completely, fried. Because having one Oliver shirtless was bad enough, and of course Arrow Oliver was keeping to his usual ways.  Which meant the moment he decided to hit up the wing chun dummy, his shirt came right off. Unfortunately--or was it fortunately?--for Felicity, Business Oliver was quite observant. So when her eyes lingered for a stray second, or seventeen, on the Arrow’s form, Business Oliver had shed  _ his  _ shirt and gotten to work on the heavy bag.

The tension only got worse then. If Felicity hadn’t known any better, she would have said that Arrow was annoyed by how Business Oliver was now shirtless, too. It seemed childish to her and so unlike him.  The more she paid attention, however, the more she realized it wasn’t so much annoyance at Business Oliver’s blatant preening (she was smart enough to know he was showing off for a reason).  No, the annoyance came from how unlike him, the Oliver from a different earth lacked a certain something that had defined Arrow Oliver for several years; something that this universe’s Oliver had to carry with him for the rest of his life, as a reminder of all that had happened to him. 

To the Oliver she had known for nearly two years, the unmarred skin of his counterpart was, in a way, an insult.  

Now Business Oliver was doing the salmon ladder, the clanking of the metal bar hitting the prongs in a steady soundtrack to his movements, while Arrow Oliver was working on the cinder block lifting thingy he did when he needed to release more broody energy than usual.

“This has to be the best pissing contest I’ve seen in awhile,” Sara muttered to the others, before shaking her head.

“They are very pretty,” Caitlin admitted, a soft hum of appreciation concluding her sentence.

“Who’s pretty?” asked someone from behind them, the soft tenor of the man’s voice making all three women turn on their heels.

“No one,” Caitlin offered with a big smile, matching the smile on the face of the dark-haired, blue-eyed man.  “It’s not important, Ronnie,” she said, snuggling into him as they hugged.

“Uh huh,” he countered, in a tone of voice that spoke of pretend chastising. “How you doing, Felicity?”

“Can’t complain, Mr. Snow. Or is it Raymond-Snow? Are you hyphenating, Ronnie?” she asked with a cheeky smile.

“She didn’t let me,” Ronnie replied with a wink, before turning back to his lovely wife.

There was a slight twinge in Felicity’s chest, at the sight of her friend and her husband making heart eyes at each other. Caitlin and Ronnie’s wedding had been an impromptu little affair, not unlike Sara and Nyssa’s.  Still, the love the couple had for each other was so very evident, it made her ache for the same. She had to force herself not to let her gaze stray to the other occupants of the lair at the thoughts crossing her mind. 

She was  _ not  _ going to go there. 

“Ronnie, please tell me you’re not here to say Mick did something rash.  Like say, burn the Waverider to the ground,” Sara requested, already reaching for her jacket which was hanging off the back of Felicity’s computer chair.

“No, nothing like that,” he said with a smirk on his handsome face. “I came to steal my wife.  I wanted to take her to lunch before heading back. I’m sure by then, Ray and the professor will need her help to get the cure worked out.” 

“You mean she’ll have to referee their latest ‘I’m right/you’re wrong’ match?” Sara asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Felicity grinned at Sara’s description of Martin and Ray’s tiffs, which had become legendary, no pun intended, among the coalition of superheroes that were spread across Central City, Starling City and anytime, anyplace.  

“Martin and Ray are doing a wonderful job with the cure and you know it,” Caitlin argued, patting her husband on the chest. “But, they also can butt heads quite a bit.”

“Better make that lunch a ‘to go’ order,” Sara said, giving Felicity a one armed hug. “I’m gonna get out of your hair, because I don’t trust my guys to not destroy destroy the ship while I’m away. Call if you need anything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Felicity said with a mock salute. 

“See you later, Felicity,” Caitlin called over her shoulder, already being towed away by Ronnie, the pair followed by Sara. 

They were already out of earshot but Felicity still said a soft ‘bye’, alongside a small wave, which was mostly received by the steps on the metal stairs and the sound of the closing door.  With a sigh, she turned and then quickly jumped back with a squeak.

“Felicity?”

Oliver was standing only a few inches away from her, his scarred body glistening with sweat and his brow furrowed in confusion. She must have really been taken in by the conversation with the others if she didn’t hear the cinderblocks dropping. A quick glance in their direction showed that he had somehow managed to put them down without breaking them, as he usually did.

When she looked back at Oliver, he was eyeing her curiously.  Felicity frowned.  “What?”

“You ok?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah--yes, just . . . a lot of things going on up here,” she said, touching her temple and doing a fantastic job at keeping her gaze from the neck up.

He nodded slowly.  “Okay . . . Did you contact Barry? Let him know what’s going on? And have we gotten anything new on Slade? Any movement on that front?” Oliver asked, his questions a staccato cascade, one after another.

“Yes to Barry: he is aware of what happened and he said he’s ready whenever we need him,” Felicity explained, moving towards her computer chair before continuing. “As far as Slade goes, everything’s quiet with him.  No sign of him around town, no increase in his ‘recruitment’ efforts,” she said, using air quotes to refer to Slade’s process of administering mirakuru to unsuspecting vagrants, plucked off the streets of Starling City.

“What about Isabel?” 

The question was posed by Business Oliver, who oh-so-casually--which meant not casually at all-- approached Felicity from the other side of computer desk. If it hadn’t been for the few feet between each of them, it would have been a Felicity sandwich with the Olivers as the bread. Or maybe a Felicity Oreo cookie was a better thought?  Either way, yum! She had to bite her lip really hard, to not let something embarrassing fly out of her mouth.  Because if there ever was a moment where the suggestion of a possible threesome was inappropriate, it would be this one. That much she was aware of.

“Isabel kept her word and as promised, she tendered her resignation to the board of QC before five p.m. yesterday,” she stated with a small smile.  “So, Oliver is off the hook as CEO, the new reign of Walter and Tommy as Co-CEOs can begin, and the demon in the body of a ballerina is off to Moscow, via private jet, as of eleven a.m.”

“Good.  Keep an eye on Slade. We don’t want him making a move without us knowing,” Oliver stated, turning to move away.

“Please.”  The command in Business Oliver’s voice was unmistakeable.

“Excuse me?” Arrow Oliver said, turning back to look at the other Oliver as if he had grown two heads.  

Felicity felt her temper flaring at the sight of them choosing now to get into this, and over something so stupid.  With Slade lying in wait, when they should be focusing on getting ready to take him down as soon as the cure was ready, what were the two Olivers doing?  Strutting around like peacocks or fighting like junkyard dogs.

Men.

“You didn’t say please. Sounded like a command, not a request,” explained the unscarred Oliver, as if it was all right for him to be broaching this topic of conversation.  Then he turned away and looked at Felicity.  

“Maybe we should celebrate the fact that Isabel is gone for good,” he continued, using the towel hanging from his neck to wipe at his forehead. “We could go to lunch.”

“No, Felicity needs to stay and man the computers.”  Arrow Oliver’s reply immediately cut off any type of answer on her part and she glared his way.

There was a pause of only a second before Business Oliver formed his rebuke.   “From what I’ve seen, she can take an hour to go eat. Slade gave us time to get Barry--we still have nearly two days to do that. Besides, she can set her computers to alert her on her phone or tablet, if anything happens.”

“Slade is unstable. He could change his mind at any time. That means she stays.”

“She is standing right here,” Felicity interrupted with an annoyed shrug, pointing at herself. “Just so we’re all aware.” 

“Felicity, contact Digg, make sure he brings lunch when he comes in,” Oliver said without missing a beat. “Besides, you’re not going anywhere,” Arrow Oliver added, changing his path to head towards the other Oliver in the room. “We’ve got training to do.”

Business Oliver looked at Felicity in shock, and then as one they looked back at this universe’s Oliver and spoke in unison.

“We do?”

“You do?”

The disbelief was palpable on both her and Business Oliver’s part. Not once, during the whole morning, had Oliver approached his counterpart regarding training. Now, all of a sudden, he was ready to go? It was not the smoothest transition or smoke screen ever deployed, Felicity though.

Much subtle.  Very sneakiness. Not.

“Digg said I should give you a shot, you’re already warmed up, might as well get it over with and see what you’ve got. How are you with knives?” Oliver asked, turning towards the racks of weapons.

Oh, she did not like the sound of this.  “No knives!” 

“Felicity, I can handle it,” Business Oliver stated at once, a look of hurt flashing across his features.

“He says he can handle it,” Oliver shot over his shoulder, examining the variety of knives available to him.

“I’m not saying you can’t,” she offered, looking straight at him, sincerity and belief obvious in her voice, before she turned her attention towards the retreating Oliver. “I’m just saying that since we’re going to need everyone--in one piece--for the fight against Slade, we might want to consider doing training that doesn’t promise a high potential for possible injuries by playing with pointy things!” 

She knew her obvious annoyance at the man in charge came through, just like the sincerity had when she spoke to Business Oliver.  

“He said he could handle it,” Oliver repeated, turning around with a severe looking set of knives on his hands.

“And I don’t disagree,” Felicity replied, tempted to throw her hands up in the air. “Have you considered that, maybe, I’m trying to keep you from getting injured?”

He snorted. Honest to god snorted, his face crumpled into a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“He’s not going to hurt me, Felicity.”

“The only way to know that, for sure, is to not use the knives.”

And there it was, the slight increase of volume to her voice at the end of the sentence. Her Loud Voice was threatening to make an appearance in the conversation. If there ever was a time for it to happen, right now was as good as any. Both Olivers were being a bit of a pain in the ass--more than a bit, actually.  And she had had it up to the dark roots of her blonde hair at serving as the mediator between two little boys fighting over a toy.

“No knives,” was her order to Arrow Oliver before sitting back down at her computer.

“Fine.”

If he didn’t sound pleased, Felicity couldn’t have cared less. She was two seconds away from going to get some air anyways.

“Is he always like this?” Business Oliver asked, softly.

“He’s a bit grumpier than usual, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Felicity answered with a tight smile. “What we do here is far too important to get my feelings hurt over a bit of bad temper.”

“Let’s go,” Arrow Oliver called from the weapons rack, having exchanged the knives for eskrima sticks. “No time to waste.”

She noticed how tightly clenched the jaw on the other earth’s Oliver was, as if he wanted to say more in the matter but he was holding himself back. Instead of letting the words fly, the man nodded once, turned on his heels and headed in the direction of his doppleganger. Arrow Oliver didn’t miss a beat: as soon as the second Oliver was close, he tossed him a pair of the eskrima sticks.  And the moment they were both on the mats, they were at it, the hollow thuds of the rattan sticks fast and furious.   

Their training was like a well choreographed dance. A hit here, a grunt there, the sticks blurring with speed.

“I guess a concussion is easier to deal with than a stab wound . . . ” she muttered, getting to work by texting Digg about the food his royal pain in the butt had requested.

XXX

He knew he was being a grumpy asshole.  The man known to the world as Oliver Queen, and to a select few as the Arrow, was very aware of the bad mood he was taking out on everyone else.  It wasn’t how he wanted things to go today.  He just couldn’t seem to stop it.  

Last night, after his talk with Digg, Oliver had been resolved to at least give his mirror image a chance.  After all, the man had managed to get Isabel out of his hair forever.  That wasn’t something that could be easily overlooked.  And Oliver was grateful for that.  

During dinner, though, he couldn’t help feeling on edge around the other Oliver.  Something about being in proximity to him made the hair on the back of Oliver’s neck stand up.  It was the same itchy feeling he always experienced when danger was around the corner.  The more time he spent around this Oliver, the more he felt his instincts at war with his mind.  

Thea had seemed to pick up on the tension, although Oliver doubted she fully understood it.  Not when Oliver himself didn’t understand it.  After they had eaten and gotten caught up, Thea had suggested that he come back to the loft with her, while the business-suit clad Oliver go to Roy’s place for the night.  It was as close to a perfect solution as existed, so Oliver went along with it.  

The break from the other man had helped a lot.  Once they were home, he and Thea stayed up talking.  In the morning, he had actually felt positive.  Perhaps it was having time with his sister and realizing that no matter how she felt about the man with his face, she didn’t think of that other Oliver as a new brother.  Perhaps it was discovering that the bed in the loft was more comfortable than he remembered--to his surprise, he hadn’t felt like he would be more comfortable on the floor.  

When he and Thea had walked into the lair, Oliver had been ready to trust his alternate universe self.  But within five minutes of being around him, that itch came back.  

It didn’t help matters when he tried to work out, to find a way to cope with that feeling, the other Oliver proceeded to do the same, including without a shirt.  And seeing that smooth, unmarked chest and back just made Oliver more grumpy.  

Maybe Felicity had been right to steer him away from knives--he was so on edge, there was no guarantee that he would be able to check himself if he went too far.  Thank God for eskrima sticks, though--the worst that would happen with those was a bruise or a headache.

Not that he thought he would end up hurting.  Because how could this guy, with a few days of training, match the seven years Oliver had spent learning to be a weapon?  But since he knew Felicity was watching, Oliver at least tried to go easy on the guy.

Although facing someone who looked just like him was very odd.

Within a few moments, though, Oliver was reconsidering not going full strength and full speed.  This guy hit hard--he used all his strength in his blows.  His footwork wasn’t great and his non-striking hand was a little weak, but the other Oliver was holding his own.

“Digg teach you this?” Oliver asked the other man.

“I already knew--did this with my trainer back home,” the other Oliver said, grunting between words.

Huh.  Why was some CEO studying martial arts?  It didn’t really fit with what he had expected from the other man.  However, even though he clearly worked out, he wouldn’t really be able to hold his own with Oliver.  

“So I can stop holding back?” Oliver asked, watching the face that was identical to his own.  

A flicker of something went through the other man’s eyes--something that looked like fear.  But he raised his chin and said, “Bring it on.”  

Smirking, Oliver stopped holding back.  He picked up the speed of his blows, made his footwork even more precise, letting all his frustration and discomfort come out in his movements.  

And the longer they kept going, the other man clearly using every bit of his energy and endurance to hang in with him, Oliver felt more like himself.  

Showing him the way forward.  

Suddenly, the doppelganger took three steps back, crossing his sticks and holding them in front of him.  “Okay--I need--a breather,” he said, panting heavily.  

Oliver found he was breathing hard, too.  He nodded and the other Oliver dropped down onto the mats.  

“I--I thought I knew,” his mirror image said.  “I thought I knew what to expect from you.  But I had no idea.”  

Slowly, Oliver lowered himself down to the mats, sitting cross-legged.  Grateful for his clear mind, the tension from being around his other version at a level he could handle for the moment.  “I thought I knew, too.  You hung in there longer than I expected.”

The other man blinked, shock in his blue eyes.  “Really?”  

“Really,” Oliver told him.  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”  

“I know.  I’m just shocked you admitted to it,” he said, pinning Oliver with his eyes.  “I thought you were going to keep being an asshole.”  

Snorting softly, Oliver nodded.  “Yeah.”

“And I was going to be an asshole right back,” the other Oliver replied.  “Just so you know.”  

Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable around his alternate self.  Which was strangely comforting.  Oliver nodded.  “I can live with that.”  

XXX

This universe’s Oliver Queen had only been back for two days.  In that period of time, the man from another universe was discovering a lot about his counterpart.  And himself.  

Mostly through pain.  

Slowly and carefully, Oliver eased himself down into one of the upholstered chairs in Verdant, closing his eyes at the softness and support.  His whole body hurt, in a way he had never experienced before.  He had prided himself on his work ethic, on his ability to keep going despite discomfort, even pain.  Yet what the other Oliver had put him through made him realize his experiences had been child’s play.

“You look like you could use this.”  

At the sound of Felicity’s voice, Oliver’s eyes snapped open and he grinned at her.  Or maybe it was at the tumblers of brown liquid she was holding.  

“You’re an angel,” he said, holding his hand out and wincing at the strain on his bicep.  

Felicity shook her head.  “Not an angel, just used to dealing with men whose heads are as hard as their muscles.  I mean, your heads are probably even harder.  I mean--oh, never mind.”  She shoved one of the glasses into his hand and then plopped down into another chair, sipping her drink.

Grinning a little, Oliver lifted the glass to his lips, ignoring the burn in his arm muscles.  The liquor spread through his body, warming him and making his exhaustion recede into the background.  Making him forget everything but Felicity, since this was the first time they had been alone together since two nights ago, when he had been pulling her close for a kiss.  

Then her Oliver had showed up and things had changed.  

Not his feelings.  He still wanted Felicity to be happy, still wanted to be the one to make her happy.  Yet how could he be so selfish, letting his desires get in the way of defeating Slade?  Especially with how hard everyone was working.  Two of the people who traveled with Sara, Ray Palmer and Professor Martin Stein, had been working with Dr. Caitlin Snow to develop an antidote to the mirakuru.  If they could administer it to Slade and his army of soldiers, the combined strength of Team Arrow, Barry and his friends, and the Legends could defeat him.  

So much was riding on this.  If they lost, Slade would insist upon Barry taking him to another universe to find Shado--and they couldn’t let that happen.  And since it was Oliver’s fault Slade knew about the possibility, he felt responsible for being part of the take-down.  He couldn’t let his feelings for Felicity distract him.  

“How . . . how are you doing?” Oliver asked, looking at Felicity.  He was curious about what she would tell him.  He had noticed she had worn her hair down and straight the last two days, instead of in the curly ponytail he had gotten used to seeing on her.  Her heels were a bit higher, and each day she had worn a different color of nail polish from the day before.  

He didn’t know what it meant, but he wanted to know.  He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.  

Over the past forty-eight hours, he had spent a lot of time watching Felicity interact with the other Oliver.  He didn’t like what he saw.  He didn’t like how his doppelganger treated her, ordering her around like she wasn’t a valuable member of the team.  Even worse, Felicity seemed to accept it, to allow him to talk to her like that.  Which he didn’t get at all.  Was Felicity really in love with her universe’s Oliver, which was why she was willing to go along with such treatment?  Or maybe, was she in love with the idea of him, with the image of the hero that Oliver was trying to become?

Felicity shrugged.  “Okay.  Slade’s been laying low, but with tomorrow being the deadline on the deal he offered you, I’m sure he’ll pop up again any minute now.  And I know I’ll find him as soon as he sticks a super-powered toe out of whatever dark, dank hidey-hole he’s been staying in, but until then . . .”  She blew out a breath, stirring the hair around her face and making Oliver smile a little. 

“I’m sure he’s hiding because he knows that.  He respects you--he knows you’re the ace in the hole,” Oliver told her.  

Her cheeks flushed and Felicity shifted in her chair.  “Thanks.”  

“I thought you might have forgotten that, with how Oliver is,” he commented, watching for Felicity’s response as he lifted his glass for another drink.  

Sighing, Felicity swirled the contents of her tumbler.  “I know it might seem like he doesn’t appreciate me, but he does--I know it.  It just doesn’t look like it to someone who doesn’t know how Oliver can be.”  She frowned, scrunching her eyes up.  “This will never get easier, to talk about him when I’m with you or vice versa.  It’d be so much easier if I could call you something else.”

Oliver was sure Felicity meant it . . . yet he wondered if she was trying to change the subject.  To not have this conversation.  But he thought it needed to happen.  They were going up against Slade tonight, and then tomorrow, it would be a week since he arrived here.  Barry would be rested up and able to take him back to his universe.  

If he wanted to go.  If he didn’t have any reason to stay here.  

Tossing back the rest of his whisky, Oliver set aside the glass and moved closer towards Felicity.  “I know I probably haven’t seen the best of your Oliver, but . . . I can’t help feeling like it isn’t right, how he treats you.  He orders you around, he doesn’t care how much he’s asking of you, he never seems to care about your feelings--”

“Oliver, you don’t know what you’re talking about--” Felicity said, interrupting him, but Oliver was just getting warmed up.  

“I might have only seen you two interacting for the last two days, but I’ve seen plenty--plus what everyone on the team has been saying since I got here,” Oliver went on.  “And I get that he’s got a mission, that he’s doing everything he can to protect Starling City, to defeat Slade--but how can you let him talk to you like he does?  You’re so strong, but when he’s around, you go quiet--I just don’t get it.”

The more he talked, the more he could tell he was losing her.  She was hardening her heart against him, rejecting everything he had to say.  Yet he had to speak his piece, had to get this out.  Making sure that before this fight with Slade, she knew that all he wanted was for Felicity to be happy.  

“You don’t have to take his attitude or his bad moods, Felicity,” he said, reaching out to touch her hand.  

She moved back in her chair, not letting him touch her.  Then she stumbled to her feet.  “I’m going to go get some air.  But--but you’re wrong.  Oliver isn’t like what you’ve said, and besides--besides, what matters is how I’m helping to save this city.  I’m making a difference here.  I’m not hiding, like some scared little IT girl in a cubicle or using anger to hide all my hurts.  I’m not that girl anymore.  To do that, I’ll put up with Oliver growling at me sometimes or Digg underestimating me or Roy calling me Blondie.  Because that doesn’t matter.”  

He listened to every word, because he had to.  He wanted to show her he wasn’t like the other Oliver.  Yet he didn’t know if he believed she meant what she said.  Not with how her hands were fidgeting, not with how her voice was shaking.  Not with the tears shining in her eyes.  

Then she was turning around, walking out the back door of Verdant at a fast pace, and Oliver swallowed.  Everyone had warned him if he hurt Felicity, he would be in for a world of pain.  The irony was, they had all been right.  Yet they had meant physical pain, doled out by Digg and Roy and Tommy.  

In reality, he would prefer getting punched in the face to the ache in his chest from making Felicity cry.  

Had he done the right thing?  Had he let his own jealousy and insecurity blind him to reality?  He didn’t know.  But as much as he wanted to go after her, Oliver left Felicity alone.  

He had done more than enough.

“Oliver!  There you are, we’ve got good news!”  

Caitlin’s excited voice made him slowly look up.  The brunette doctor had burst into Verdant through the front doors, followed by two men: one with grey hair and glasses, the other tall and handsome in a superhero kind of way.  Bringing up the rear was Ronnie.

“Wrong Oliver,” he told Caitlin.  “The one you want is downstairs with the rest of the team.”  

The two men looked at him with wide eyes, before the superhero one took the older man by the arm and pulled him towards the stairs.  Caitlin looked at him, too, her head tilted to the side.  Ronnie said slowly, “Are you okay?”

Oliver did his best to smile, but he knew it wasn’t a convincing one.  “I’m fine.  Go on, go tell Oliver the good news.  I’ll be down in a bit.”  

The husband and wife exchanged glances.  “Okay,” Caitlin said.  She gave him a smile that he thought was supposed to be encouraging, but instead just looked uncertain.  Then with Ronnie, she joined her colleagues in going downstairs.  

Leaning back in his chair, Oliver took a few deep breaths.  Of course the mission would come together just as he was on the outs with Felicity.  He knew she was professional enough to not let it interfere with taking out Slade, so he had to do the same.  He had to get his head in the game, so he could do his part.  

Slowly, his aches and pains in the back of his mind, Oliver stood up and went to the stairs, slowly descending into the lair.

XXX

With so many people in the lair, it was very crowded.  Oliver stood in one corner of the room, observing all the people--all the heroes--in the space, while wondering why he was here.  

To one side, Barry was wearing his red suit, the headpiece pushed back as he chatted with Cisco, Caitlin and Ronnie.  Beside them was Sara’s group, collectively called the Legends.  There was Professor Stein, who joined with Ronnie to form Firestorm.  Ray Palmer was wearing the suit that let him shrink to the smallest of sizes, thus giving him the name of the Atom.  Mick Rory, whose contribution seemed to be using a heat gun and making sarcastic remarks, was standing beside Ray and looking bored.  Sara was wearing the white leather costume in her identity as the White Canary, with Nyssa by her side dressed in black and red.  To Oliver’s surprise, Nyssa carried not just a sword, but her own bow and quiver.  

On the other side, there was Team Arrow: Diggle in all black, his helmet shielding his face.  Roy and Thea were both dressed in their red costumes, hoods down and masks around their necks as they talked to each other, holding hands.  Tommy and Charlie were sorting through the medical supplies.  

In the center of the room was the other Oliver, dressed in his green sleeveless suit, looking every bit the impressive, commanding hero he was.  Next to him, Felicity sat at her computers, her red dress the perfect complement to Oliver’s green.  

And then there was him.  Oliver Jonas Queen, the outsider, the misfit, the one that couldn’t compete with any of these people.  What was he doing, standing here in the Arrow’s cast-off suit, clutching a bow in his hand and feeling like he was going to barf?

“Yo, Oliver, you okay?  You look pretty pale.”  

Looking up, he saw that Roy and Thea had edged closer to him.  Both of the red-clad archers were looking at him with concerned expressions. 

“It’s okay to be nervous--use that,” Thea said, patting his shoulder.  

“At least you’re not telling me I’ve got nothing to worry about,” Oliver said, trying to smile.

“Oh, we’ve all got something to worry about,” Roy said.  “But you’ve got this.”  

Oliver eyed the young man, wondering where this confidence and belief in him came from.  Did Roy look at him and see the real Oliver?  Or was it from something Roy had seen in him, something that made him believe in this barely-trained man?  

Thea leaned up and kissed his cheek.  “Good luck, brother from another mother.”  She gave him a cheeky smile and Oliver couldn’t help laughing.  

Digg stepped over to them.  “You ready, Oliver?”  

There was no hint of doubt in Digg’s voice; it was a simple question asking if he was prepared.  Oliver nodded, feeling his spine straighten.  

He might be barely better than a civilian in this fight, but Oliver thought he could hold his own.  Even more than that, he had all the determination and stubbornness he possessed on his side.  He was ready to play his part.  He was ready to do whatever it took to defeat Slade.

Even if it ended in his death.  

“Okay,” the Arrow said, his voice cutting through the conversations in the room.  “The first order of business is taking out Slade’s army, which is massing in the Giordano Tunnel.  After we’ve done that, we will be splitting into teams.  Nyssa, Firestorm, Digg: you’re going to make sure there are no stragglers from that army.  If any of them can regroup with Slade before they’ve received the antidote, the odds will be stacked against us.  Mick, Ray, Speedy and Roy: you’ll be providing rear-guard action to my group.  Cisco, Caitlin, you’ll be assisting Felicity here in the lair.  Tommy and Charlie are on medical backup; if you get injured, tell Felicity so she can send them out to you.”  

Oliver listened, feeling his stomach roll.  He had thought he would be with one of the groups helping at the rear, or maybe staying here in the lair to help protect Felicity and the rest of Barry’s team.  But . . . but maybe he wasn’t on any team at all?  Maybe he wasn’t going to be involved with the battle at all?

“Barry and Sara are with us,” the other Oliver said, walking towards him.  

_ Us? _ Oliver thought, before it sunk in.  Us, as in the two Olivers.  

The Arrow, in all his glory, looked at Oliver.  Then he held up one of the syringe arrows.  “This is a double dose.  This will ensure that Slade will be depowered.  And it’s up to you to get this arrow into him.”  

Was this a joke?  Oliver looked around wildly, at the faces of all these heroes, all of these people who would be better equipped to take out Slade.  Yet if any of them thought that, their faces didn’t show it.  He made sure to look at each and every face, and he saw nothing but confidence in the Arrow’s plan.  

Last, Oliver let his eyes meet Felicity’s.  He didn’t know what to expect, but the faith he saw in her eyes made him swallow.  Even after their fight, she still believed in him.  Maybe . . . maybe with her faith, with the Arrow’s, he could do this.  

Nodding, Oliver took the syringe from his other self and tucked it into his quiver.  The other man looked at him for a long moment, then turned back to the gathered heroes.  

“Any questions?”  

When there was only head shakes, the Arrow nodded.  “Then let’s go.”  

As he followed everyone, Oliver couldn’t help glancing back at Felicity for one last look.  She was working at her computers, tracking Slade’s army, looking for Slade.  Yet she still lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, as if she knew he had turned to look at her.  

Then, she smiled and gave him a thumbs up, and Oliver had to smile.  A smile that stayed on his face as he went into battle.

End, Chapter 10 

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a little Christmas present for y’all: a new chapter of Two Men, Same Name! We suspect the ending of this chapter might prompt a reaction similar to the ending of Arrow 5x09, only with more yelling and less people coming back from the dead. Read on and let us know what you think!

 

Oliver was not quite sure whose idea it had been.  All he knew was that someone mentioned it over the comms.  If they made it through the mission, there should be drinks after.  He does remember that it was Thea who replied, quick as a whip, saying it was a good thing Tommy and Oliver co-owned Verdant.  The original statement was obviously done as a form of incentive. Every single one of the heroes participating in the takedown of Slade would get free drinks afterwards, as long as they didn’t get killed.

It actually worked.

The fight with Slade had not been an easy one. Just like the Oliver original to this universe had predicted, the man had been ready to move things forward, doing away with the truce he had set up with Oliver himself. His madness had given way to his unbridled rage.  The groups of heroes facing the one-eyed villain had been as cohesive as if they had been working together their whole lives. Even Mick, who everyone thought was the most volatile was up to keeping to his assigned task--especially since it gave him a carte blanche of destruction towards Slade’s army.

And they needed that. They had needed that raw power. 

It had been nerve-wracking to know he, the newcomer, was the one with the syringe arrow to cure Slade. There had been so many possibilities for failure. And it was a bit mind-boggling with so many heroes around.  There wasn’t a single time in his life that Oliver had felt more out of place and accepted all at the same time.

It had been brutal.

That one shot, to make things right, was the one accomplishment in his life that he would never forget.

The White Canary and the Arrow had been keeping Slade’s attention, while Barry had served as bait. Meanwhile, unknown to the super soldier, the speedster had perfectly positioned Oliver in the rafters. So when the time came to make the supposed exchange, when Slade decided he would kill the Arrow and then go to another universe to find Shado, that’s when Oliver struck. Because Slade had been rambling on and on about his master plan, just like in the movies, and he had been too distracted to notice the unimportant man--the one he believed was no threat at all.

That had been Slade’s undoing.

The syringe arrow had struck him on the side of the neck, the only part of him that was not covered by his highly resistant armor. Even though Slade raged, even though he fought like a cornered animal, the tables had been turned by the cure and the heroes were victorious.  

Once Slade had been neutralized, a bunch of military men dressed in black appeared.  It had taken Oliver by surprise, but the lack of reaction from the others made him stay calm. It seemed their arrival was all part of the plan. Barry appeared by his side a second later and rushed him to stand only a few feet away from the Arrow. 

Slade was to be shipped to a highly secured holding facility maintained by ARGUS, a covert organization shrouded in secrecy, and which happened to owe the Arrow a few favors.

A woman with dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a power suit to rival some of the best businesswomen Oliver had encountered on his own earth, was in charge of the military men.  They did quick work in restraining the unconscious ex-super soldier and taking him away. 

When it was all said and done, she spared a glance at him and then turned her attention to the other Oliver.  Still, she didn’t ask.  Instead, she assured everyone that where Slade was going, he would never hurt anyone ever again.  And that was that.

Well, that and her planting a kiss on Spartan’s cheek and telling him to ‘Be careful out there, Johnny.’

Even Mick had quipped that Lyla Michaels was his type of woman.  “With all that firepower at her disposal,” he had said, to which Diggle had just smirked.

Everyone had moved out then, back to the solace of Verdant and the makeshift infirmary Tommy and Charlie had set up.  After all the cuts, bruises and other wounds had been soothed by the medical backup, all the heroes had moved things to the top level of the building and an impromptu party had started.  And it was a sight.

People with bandages, braces and slings, seemingly without a care in the world, shooting back shots of expensive liquor--some of them lit up by Mick, some without dancing flames. Thea had gotten the sound system started, as well as the lights, so the whole club was a private party for the men and women who had risked their lives against an army of super soldiers.

Oliver had slipped away and was watching from the VIP section of the club, the mezzanine giving him the perfect view of everyone while also allowing him some privacy.

He couldn’t help but smile, broadly, when the speakers of the club started blaring ‘Bodies’ by Drowning Pool and every single hero started singing along.  Charlie was bouncing on her feet alongside Cisco Ramon and Ray Palmer, trying to get Professor Stein to dance with them, even though their dancing was more of a jump and seizure combination. Tommy was behind the bar, pouring drinks and making sure Mick Rory didn’t set the whole place on fire, while the Arrow sat at the end of the bar, close to his childhood best friend, chatting occasionally with both men. 

Oblivious to the angry rock music, Ronnie was swaying with his wife Caitlin in the middle of the dance floor, holding her close in a slow dance. Thea, Roy and Diggle were talking to Felicity, all four sitting comfortably in one of the booths, with Thea perched on Roy’s lap. Sara and Nyssa had taken to another of the booths and were kissing each other in-between shots of what Oliver thought was tequila. 

If an unknowing civilian had stumbled into the club, it all would have seemed like the strangest costume party in the history of costume parties.  Even though they had been sutured, cleaned, tended to and mended as best as they could be, everyone was still in their costumes,  except for Palmer, Stein, Ronnie and himself.

“You know, I think the other Oliver has dibs on brooding.”

Barry came to stand by Oliver’s right side, adopting a similar position to his own. He leaned forward on the railing of the mezzanine, looking down at the group below, looking totally relaxed in his red suit with the cowl pushed back behind his nape.

“I’m not really brooding,” Oliver admitted with a shake of his head. “Just . . . taking it all in, I guess.”

“It is kind of a lot, isn’t it?” the speedster offered with a smile.

“Yeah, a little bit,” Oliver replied with a soft chuckle. “I keep thinking back to Slade, when I had to tell him about you.  About the possibility of another universe, where the woman he loves was alive. And I know he was quite possibly one of the most dangerous men in existence--but part of me can’t really blame him. Wanting to go somewhere else? Where she was still alive? Where he might have had a chance?”

Barry nodded a few times at the statement.

“When I first realized that I could run back in time, the only thing I wanted to do was go back and fix things,” Barry said.  “My mom, she died when I was little and my dad was blamed for her murder. I wanted to fix that. It took me a while to realize that just because I can change that one thing, that one part of it all, the consequences of that choice could be horrible.”

The young man’s gaze drifted towards his friends, Oliver noticed, before Barry continued.  “Not for myself--it would’ve been nice to have a mom and a dad that were there for me--but what about everyone else? Y’know? Could I live with myself knowing I made such a selfish decision?” he asked, shaking his head. 

“I would’ve had them but then I would’ve never gone to live with Joe and Iris. I probably would’ve never gotten to meet Cisco, Caitlin, Dr. Wells, Professor Stein and Ronnie. People who really have had an impact in my life, that have made me better,” he said, turning his gaze towards Oliver. “There’s a good chance I wouldn’t have become the Flash, met the other you and decided to use my powers to become a hero if I hadn’t been obsessed with figuring out my mom’s murder.”

“It’s not the same, though, is it?  All he wanted was to right that wrong. To have a chance,” Oliver said. 

“Yeah, he did. It’s the way he was going to do it in, how far he was willing to go, that’s the problem,” Barry said

They were silent for a while after that, letting Oliver’s attention move towards Felicity. She was laughing at something Diggle had said and Oliver’s heart beat a little faster just watching her. This was the Felicity he cared for. The one full of light, laughter and intelligence . . . and he wanted, more than anything, to find a way to make it last between them. Taking her with him was a ludicrous idea, but it was the secret wish his heart held.  Still, she wasn’t his to keep but the thought of having to leave her pierced his heart.

“After all you did today, are you still going to be able to take me back? To take me home?” Oliver asked quietly.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was more to life, to his life, than the babbling blonde. He had a responsibility to himself to return to his own universe. He had a company to run, he had a sister who needed him, and quite possibly, if all he had learned here was the same in his world, he had a disaster called the Undertaking to stop.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem,” Barry said immediately. “I probably shouldn’t ask this but, you sure?  There’s no real hurry for you to leave. I can have you back over there in a flash.”

“Yeah--Yes, I’m sure. There’s things I need to get done there,” Oliver replied with a few nods of his head, while walling off his heart.

This was the hardest decision he’d ever had to make.

“I just need a few minutes.”

“You’ve got it,” Barry said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re as inspirational as the other Oliver. You gave this team hope during a really hard time.  You might want to keep that in mind for when you get home.”

“Hey Barry! We’re doing Tequila Shooooooooots!” Cisco’s voice rang from the floor below, making the young man smile.

“He knows I can’t get drunk, but he still likes to try,” he explained to Oliver before walking away and down the stairs to join the others.

Leaving Oliver alone, to steel himself for the conversations that needed to happen before he could go down the rabbit hole and back to his universe. 

Letting his eyes scan over the crowd, he didn’t see the man he was looking for.  Oliver had an idea where the subject of his search was, though.  Pushing himself back from the railing, Oliver descended the stairs from the VIP section.  As he walked past Thea and Roy, slow-dancing together, Oliver gave them both a smile and a little nod of the head.  Thea gave him a wave, a happy smile on her face.  

He hoped he might see his Thea so happy someday.  So fulfilled and content.  He thought she was satisfied with her life, yes, but she could be a lot happier, he believed.  

Perhaps he would get to set an example for her.  

The heroes were clustered around the bar, drinking and talking.  Oliver cut through the group, accepting the smiles and congratulations, telling himself to not argue with their compliments.  He had done his part in taking down Slade--he was worthy of being part of this celebration.  

Brushing past Cisco, he noticed how wobbly on his feet the young scientist was.  Oliver reached out and steadied him, but it seemed like his touch just made Cisco sway even more.  

Barry stepped up and rested a hand on Cisco’s shoulder.  “You okay, Cisco?” Barry asked his friend.  But Cisco acted like he hadn’t even heard Barry; his eyes were fixed on Oliver.  

“You--you shouldn’t be . . . something--something’s not right . . .” Cisco muttered, then he brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes.  “Ugh, tequila was a bad idea . . .”

“I’d agree, buddy,” Barry said, wrapping an arm around him.  “I’ve got him, Oliver.”

With a nod, Oliver stepped back, letting Barry escort Cisco away.  The charming nerd had been nothing but nice to Oliver, so he wasn’t sure what Cisco meant.  Was he saying Oliver was the thing that wasn’t right?  It made sense, but Oliver wasn’t prepared for how that made him feel.  

Giving his head a shake, Oliver pushed aside the question of Cisco’s unusual behavior, in favor of doing what he needed to do.  

Confronting this universe’s Oliver Queen.

XXX

The sound of footsteps on the metal stairs didn’t surprise Oliver.  Leaning back in his chair, still dressed in his leathers, he looked over to see his self from the other universe entering the lair.

That was what surprised him.  He had been expecting Felicity.  

“When I couldn’t find you upstairs, I figured you were down here,” the other Oliver said, looking like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.  He rubbed them against his jeans, then folded his arms over his chest.  That didn’t seem to suit him, either, because he almost immediately dropped his arms to hang by his sides.  

Oliver quirked his eyebrow.  “Why don’t you sit down?”  He gestured towards one of the chairs with the hand that wasn’t holding the glass of vodka he had been sipping.  

The other man took a deep breath and nodded, dropping down into a chair.  His shoulders slumped, the move very visible since he had shed Oliver’s original costume upon his return to the lair.  A nasty scratch along his arm had required medical attention, so the doppelganger had spent the rest of the night in the black undershirt he had been wearing under the leather, along with a spare pair of Oliver’s jeans. 

Once he was seated, he shifted around in the chair, before leaning forward.  “So why are you hiding down here?”  

For a long moment, Oliver looked at his mirror image.  Looking at the other man truly was like looking into a mirror.  The same stubble, the same close-cropped hair, the same mole under his lower lip.  His eyes, though . . . those were different.  

“Slade was my friend.  More than a friend--he was like a brother to me, back on the island,” Oliver said slowly.  He lifted his glass and sipped the clear alcohol.  “No one else could understand that.  So I came down here.”  

Strictly speaking, that wasn’t the full truth.  Both Sara, since she had been on the island and had known Slade, and Digg, with his army experiences, probably would have seen this not as brooding, but as a farewell to a comrade.  Yet Oliver hadn’t wanted their sympathies or their attempts to make him feel better.  They would think he was being too hard on himself, brooding over his hand in Slade’s fate rather than being thankful he had found a way to take down Slade without having to kill him.  

Everyone upstairs were celebrating, feeling energized by defeating Deathstroke.  Oliver had just wanted to take some time to mourn the downfall of Slade Wilson, the man.  To remember, once again, that a good man had been damaged and destroyed by Oliver Queen.  

No matter how hard he struggled to save those he cared about, he never seemed to succeed.  So it was for the best if the world at large didn’t know who he cared about.  To hold the people who mattered the most at the furthest distance.  Maybe then, when he inevitably lost them, he would be able to cope.  To go on. The Bratva had introduced him to that way of thinking and his subsequent life had cemented that teaching.

Glancing up at the other man, Oliver was struck by the expression on his face.  There was something in his eyes that made Oliver feel like maybe his counterpart did understand.  Or at least understood why it seemed safer to keep people at arm’s length, contrary to all instincts to hold on to them as tightly as possible.  The less contact those people had with him, the safer they would be.  Especially someone like Felicity, who couldn’t protect herself, whose true power was with a tablet in her hands instead of a bow or a staff.

Now he wanted to shift around in his chair, trying to hide this sudden vulnerable feeling.  Coupled with the now-normal itch from being in proximity to his double, Oliver was ready to start pacing.  He contented himself with rubbing his thumb against his fingers and taking a healthy sip of his drink.  

“So why did you come down here?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit more harsh than he intended.  

The other universe’s Oliver swallowed.  “I’m going to be leaving in a little while--Barry is going to take me home.”   

That made Oliver lower his glass.  “You are?”  

Oliver wasn’t blind.  He had seen the way the other man had looked at Felicity.  After all, when he had returned to the lair, it was to a man wearing his face about to kiss his team member.  Which meant over the last few days, he had made sure to keep watch.  Observing the connection that had formed between Felicity and the other Oliver.  

It bothered him.  Not only was the other Oliver unscarred, not only was he a business genius, but he . . . he was clearly in love with Felicity.  It was obvious to anyone who really looked.  Probably not to Felicity, who had her own insecurities and blind spots, but Oliver would bet Roy, Digg and Tommy had figured out the man from another universe had fallen for Felicity.  

Which was why he was surprised the man was leaving so soon after taking down Slade.  At the very least, Oliver thought he would want to stay to spend some more time with Felicity.  

With a nod, the man across from him lifted his own glass and took a sip from the brown liquid that filled it.  “Yes.  Barry’s recovered, and . . . and I should get back to my own universe.”  

He paused, and then locked his eyes on Oliver’s, blue meeting blue.  “But not before I say something to you first.”    

“What?” Oliver asked slowly.  Not liking the idea of what this Oliver had to say to him.  

“It’s about Laurel.”  

Now he was even more apprehensive.  “Laurel?  What about Laurel?”

His doppelganger threw back the rest of his drink, then set aside his glass.  He rubbed his hands on his knees.  “In my universe, I’m not with Laurel.”  

The way he had said it, like he was bracing for Oliver to blow up, made him wonder just what this man thought about him.  What sort of impression he had made.  And suddenly, he wanted to prove him wrong.  To show this guy who had it so easy that Oliver wasn’t some grumpy asshole.  Not without having valid reasons for such behavior, that is.  He was perfectly capable of not being an asshole, even if being around the other Oliver was sometimes like chewing on tin foil.  

Standing up, he walked over to the chest he had brought back from the island and retrieved the bottle of vodka.  “Mind switching to clear spirits?” he asked, holding up the bottle towards him.  

After a pause, the man nodded.  “Sure, I guess.  This conversation could only be helped by booze.”  

“That’s what I was thinking,” Oliver admitted with a snort.  He filled the other Oliver’s glass and topped off his own, before sitting back down.  “Okay, so in your universe . . . you’re not with Laurel.  Anything else different?”  

He shrugged.  “Laurel is married to Tommy--after a drunken wedding in Reno, believe it or not.  And she doesn’t have a sister at all.  I’m the CEO of Queen Consolidated, Thea is a bohemian . . . my parents are still alive.”

Oliver felt his chest tighten.  A universe where his parents were still alive . . . that hurt.  Even more than the fact this Oliver wasn’t involved with Laurel.  It made him remember how he had thought about a universe where he might find his perfect woman. Maybe in that universe, his parents would still be alive, too . . .  But having his parents back was no more realistic than the idea of finding the perfect woman.  

In those days on the island--and even after he had come back--Oliver had thought Laurel was that woman.  Yet over the last year, ever since she had left, he had started to question that.  Which made him feel like the Ollie he used to be.  Like a disloyal son of a bitch.  But . . . Laurel had been the one to leave.  She knew everything about him, and she had still left.  

That was a pretty big sign they weren’t met to be together.  

Taking another sip of his vodka, he looked at his counterpart.  “I guess everyone’s talked to you about Laurel.”  

“They have,” the other Oliver said, swirling the vodka in his glass instead of drinking it.  “A lot.  Especially since they think you’ve also treated Felicity like crap because of it.”  

His hand clenched his glass.  “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”  

“No, they do,” the man with his face said.  “You  _ do  _ treat Felicity like crap.  You order her around, you make her feel like some kind of dirty little secret because you won’t go out in public with her--how do you think that makes her feel?  She’s so insecure, she’s willing to follow your orders and accept your treatment, even as she justifies it by saying she’s helping people.  I don’t know what Laurel was like in this universe, but I can tell you that Felicity is worth a dozen of the Laurel I know.”  

Leaping to his feet, Oliver started pacing.  “Why does everyone think I’m comparing Felicity and Laurel?” he asked, glaring at his counterpart.  “I’m not. I am well aware they’re totally different.  And you know, Laurel’s been gone for a year!  She left.  She left after I told her everything about me.  We were on the verge of the Undertaking, and--and I wanted her to know the truth.  Because I thought if I stopped Malcolm Merlyn, if I could prevent the Undertaking from happening, I could hang up the hood and just . . . be with Laurel.  Like I wanted.”  

The other man looked shocked.  “What . . . what happened?”  

Oliver snorted.  “She decided she’d rather make a difference by being a lawyer, instead of having to live with a man who was breaking the law every night.  Once a cop’s daughter, always a cop’s daughter.” 

Ever since Laurel had left, he hadn’t let himself really think about it.  But hearing the bitterness in his voice, Oliver suddenly realized just how much his anger at Laurel had been impacting his interactions for the last year.  It made him feel flustered and embarrassed and ashamed.  Rubbing a hand over his face, he slumped back into his chair and took a healthy swallow of his vodka.  

His doppelganger was leaning back in his own chair, his glass of vodka still untouched.  “Wow.  I had no idea it was like that . . . I mean, everyone knows Laurel left, but they all think you’ve been pining after her.”  

“I haven’t told anyone why Laurel left,” Oliver said with a shrug.  “Not the full story.  It was . . . easier.”  

“I don’t get you  _ at all _ ,” the other man said with a huff.  “How is that easier?  Don’t you want your friends to understand what’s going on in your life?  They want to help you, but you act like they’re only good for getting ordered around.”  

If he wasn’t so exhausted, Oliver might explain it all to his alt-universe self.  Talk about how many people he had lost, talk about the mistakes he had made, the choices that had backfired.  All so this man who was identical in appearance to him, but so much more optimistic and better than Oliver himself, could understand.  

Yet he was too exhausted . . . and too scared.  Too scared of this man possibly deciding to stay, to become the hero everyone thought Oliver was.  

Giving his head a shake, Oliver said quietly, “I’m doing things my way.  When you’re back in your universe, you won’t have to worry about any of this stuff.  Just . . . enjoy everything you have.”  

He could feel the other Oliver’s eyes on him, but Oliver stared down into his glass.  

“So should you.  So c’mon.”  

“Huh?” Oliver asked, confused by his words.  

His mirror image was standing up, no longer holding his glass in favor of resting his hands on his hips.  “You’ve got a lot here to be thankful for,” the man said.  “So come upstairs.  You deserve to be with your team tonight.  And I want you there when I say goodbye to everyone.”  

For a long moment, Oliver just looked at him.  It was tempting to stay down here.  To be alone, in the dark, and not face the things he had done.  But maybe . . . maybe in trying to atone for his past sins, he was committing even worse ones.  

Slowly, he rose to his feet.  “Let’s go,” he said, moving towards the stairs.  His counterpart followed him, a big grin on his face.  Glancing at him, Oliver rolled his eyes.  “I make no promises about having fun.”  

“You don’t have to have fun.  You just have to be there,” the other man said as Oliver opened the door, stepping out onto the floor of Verdant.

XXX

Helping to take down Slade was a major accomplishment, Oliver knew.  It felt more impressive, though, that he managed to get this universe’s Oliver to rejoin the party.  To not lock himself away in his sadness and misery.  To encourage him to leave his dark cave and step into the light.  

That was what the team would need: a leader who wasn’t punishing himself.  

Oliver wasn’t sure if that message had gotten through to his other self.  He hadn’t been able to say everything he wanted to say.  Hopefully, it was enough.  

It would have to be enough.  Because he was going to take at least one piece of advice this heroic version of himself had offered: enjoy what he had.  Not that it would eliminate his fears and doubts.  He was going to have a lot in his own universe to be worried about.  His family, his work, his city.  Oliver knew, however, that he would still worry about this universe, his other self’s advice to the contrary.  

In particular, he would be worrying about one person.  

While he was downstairs, the party had shifted into another gear.  The music had gotten louder and more people were dancing.  Caitlin and Ronnie, Thea and Roy, and Sara and Nyssa were on the dance floor, joining Felicity, Cisco, Barry and Ray.  At the bar, Mick, Digg, Lyla and Professor Stein were drinking and talking while Tommy and Charlie acted as bartenders.  

Standing side-by-side with his counterpart, Oliver watched the crowd.  He could see how the other Oliver stood like the Arrow, with his hands on his hips, and he gently nudged him.  “It’s a party.  Ease up.”  

The hero let out a rusty-sounding chuckle.  “I used to know how to act at parties.”  

“It’s pretty unfamiliar to me, too, now,” Oliver acknowledged.  

They stood in silent communion for a moment, then the Arrow asked, “Are you going to make some kind of speech?”  

He shook his head.  “No, that’s not me.  I’ll just say goodbye to a few people and leave with Barry.”  

His doppelganger nodded.  “Okay.”  He paused, then turned to look at him.  “Thank you.”  

It was just two words, but the sincerity and honesty in the words made up for what was being left unspoken.  Oliver smiled a little and held his hand out to the other man.  “You’re welcome.”

His other self nodded and took his hand, shaking it slowly.  At the contact, Oliver winced at the pins-and-needles sensation running up his arm.  From his face, the other man felt the same thing.  Oliver quickly dropped his hand, which helped eliminate the annoying sensation.  Giving his head a shake, he took a breath and looked at the crowd, bracing himself to begin making his farewells.

Something held him back, though.  This was his last chance.  His last chance to really make things better.  So Oliver took a risk.  He turned back and leaned in towards the Arrow, so the other man could hear him over the music.

“You deserve someone better than Laurel.  And we both know who that might be.”

Their eyes met and held, the pounding bass the same rhythm as his heartbeat, and Oliver could tell his mirror image knew exactly who he was talking about.  The way his head slightly turned and his gaze immediately found Felicity was proof enough of that.  

“Take care of her,” Oliver said, pulling back from his heroic counterpart.  

Without another word, Oliver turned and walked away, heading towards the bar.  He needed a drink.  And he needed to get away from the version of himself who was going to get the happy ending he deserved.  The happy ending Oliver wanted.  

That didn’t mean he couldn’t find another kind of happiness.  His Thea had been right: he needed some color in his life, some passion.  After visiting this universe, he had an idea of what ‘passion’ meant for him.  Once he was back home, he was going to put some color into his world.  He wasn’t going to be the man his parents wanted him to be.  He was going to be his own man.  

After a drink, he began telling people the news.  First the group at the bar, which prompted Tommy to pour him another drink and Digg to offer him a toast, just for the two of them.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how the other Oliver had pulled Thea aside--perhaps to tell her the news?  That suspicion was confirmed when Thea walked over to him and hugged him.

“You really are my brother from another mother,” Thea said, her voice a bit thick.  “I’m sorry you’re leaving.”  

Oliver gently rubbed her back, noticing the way the other Oliver and Tommy--her real brothers--were watching them.  “Thanks.  I need to get back to my Thea.  She’s only got me . . . I don’t know if Tommy is her brother,” Oliver said, pulling back to look at her.  “But it was great having you here, Thea.  Thank you.”  

She gave him a teary smile before poking him in the chest with a finger.  “You, go back to your universe and be happy, you hear me?  Or else I’ll come over there, join up with your Thea and we’ll force you to be happy.”  

“And she would do it,” Roy added as he joined them, wrapping an arm around Thea’s shoulders.  He held his free hand out to Oliver.  “Good luck.”  

With a small smile, Oliver shook Roy’s hand.  “Thanks.  I’m glad I got to know you.  Take care of Thea, okay?”

Roy looked at Thea and smiled.  “As much as she’ll let me.”  

Chuckling softly, Oliver turned to exchange goodbyes with the members of Barry and Sara’s teams.  He noticed how Felicity was hanging back--and how the other Oliver seemed to be watching both of them, Barry by his side.  

Finally, there was only Felicity left.  His feet moved slowly as he walked towards her.  He wanted to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans, to hide how his fingers were trembling, but instead, he just balled them into fists and let them hang by his sides.  

As he approached her, she put on a smile.  “So . . . time to go?”  She adjusted her glasses.  “Obviously, I mean, with you saying goodbye to everyone and Barry eating all the garnishes behind the bar for energy--not that olives and orange slices would give him nearly enough energy, and really, only Barry could get down a combo like that.”  She made an adorable ‘eww’ face at the food combination she had just described, and Oliver couldn’t help smiling back at her.

“With Slade taken care of and Barry fully recovered, it . . . it seems like the right time for me to go,” he said quietly, gazing at her.  He knew trying to memorize her face was pointless, because his memory would never be able to capture everything amazing there was about Felicity.  There was no way he would be able to remember the exact shade of her eyes, just how adorable she looked when she was babbling, the sound of her laugh.  

Memories wouldn’t be enough.  Because he wanted to have so much more than only memories of Felicity.  

Swallowing, he reached out and took her hands.  “You--you made this whole strange, unbelievable week something special, Felicity.  You were the first person to believe in me, and not because I looked like Oliver, and knowing that . . . it made all the difference.”

Felicity’s lower lip trembled slightly.  Her eyes looked shiny, like she was on the verge of tears--although maybe it was a trick of her glasses.  “I . . .” she said, but she ducked her head instead of finishing her thought.

Oliver squeezed her hands gently.  “I’m sorry for arguing with you earlier.  I just want you to be happy.  That’s something I want to know before I leave.  That you’re living your life, every day, being happy and content and fulfilled.”  

Her lips parted and when he felt her breath wash over his face, Oliver realized how close they had gotten.  Almost against his will, his eyes dropped to her lips and he felt himself leaning in towards her.  At the last moment, he remembered where they were, he remembered this was goodbye, and his lips made contact in the undefined region between the corner of her mouth and her cheek.  The way his whole body lit up when his lips met her skin, though, was enough to tell Oliver that if they had gotten a chance, if things had been different . . . they would have been so good together.  

He kept the contact for only a few seconds, before he pulled back to look at her.  Her eyes were huge and dazed, a tear streaking down her cheek when she blinked.  Oliver felt like he had been punched in the gut at the sight of her crying over him.  

“Do you understand?” he asked her, speaking quietly around the lump in his throat.  “Be happy, Felicity.”  

In his grip, her hands spasmed against his, and she nodded quickly, her ponytail bobbing.  Oliver let go of her, taking a few steps back, before he turned to find Barry.  The speedster hadn’t left the archer’s side, but Oliver carefully avoided looking at his counterpart.  Not wanting to see his face after the moment Oliver had just shared with Felicity.

“I’m ready to go, Barry,” Oliver said, his voice carrying through Verdant.

XXX

The moment that Barry had grabbed Oliver’s hand, pulling him along on the trip across universes, Oliver felt a sudden stab of doubt.  Was this the right decision?  Should he have said more to the other Oliver?  What if he had asked Felicity to come with him?  

Before he had the time to think about any of those questions, though, his body was rebelling at the strain of dimensional travel, his stomach churning and his clothes beginning to feel very overheated.  It made him wonder if he should have stayed in the Arrow’s original leather suit--wouldn’t it be fireproof? 

Barry had assured Oliver they would arrive back in time for him to make his meeting, and he was better than his word.  In fact, they arrived before Barry had even found him the first time.  When he finished puking up his guts, he stood up and realized . . . 

“Barry, you brought me back too early!”  

Pointing across the plaza in front of Queen Consolidated, he took in the sight of his week-old self, stepping out of the car he had just parked in front of the building.  Oliver looked at the scarlet-clad young man, who had a sheepish expression on his face.  

“I really need to get better at this,” the young man said.  “Sorry, Oliver.  But in a second, I’ll show up and take you away, and you can just pick up from there.”  

“You’re right,” Oliver said, turning back to look at his younger self, glad they were hidden in the shadows on the side of the building.  He frowned a little, tilting his head to one side.  “Is that what my hair really looked like?  God, no wonder everyone was calling it ‘serial killer hair’.”  

The speedster let out a cough that Oliver would guess was covering a laugh.  Turning to glare at him, Oliver nearly missed it.  Just in time, he looked back to see a flash of lightning.  Then, the younger Barry appeared in front of the suit-clad, long-haired Oliver.  After a moment of conversation--a conversation Oliver remembered well--Barry took Oliver by the arm and they vanished in a burst of red-and-yellow electricity.  

Blowing out a breath, Oliver looked at the empty plaza.  “Well.  That’s it.”  And once he said goodbye to Barry, this whole strange experience would be over.  

Fortunately, Barry seemed to sense his mood.  He gave Oliver an understanding smile.  “It was good to know you.  Here’s hoping I never have to come get you again.”  

Something in the vicinity of his chest tightened, because if Barry never had to come for him again, that meant he would never again see the people from the other universe.  Which was the way things had to be, Oliver reminded himself.  This was the only way for Felicity and the other Oliver to be happy--to find their happiness with each other.  And he was back where he belonged, and maybe . . . just maybe he could find something or someone that would make him happy, too.  

At least he had a purpose now.  A goal, something to work for.  His eyes had been opened--not as painfully as his other self’s had been thanks to the island--but now he saw the hidden darkness of the world.

And he was going to fight it.  Starting as soon as Barry left.  

“Bye, Oliver,” Barry said, lifting his hand in a wave.  

He didn’t have time to say goodbye before the man in red took off, disappearing with what sounded like a sonic boom.  But Oliver still said it, looking at where Barry had been.  And his words weren’t just for the Scarlet Speedster.  They were for everyone in the universe he had just left.

“Goodbye.”  

End, Chapter 11

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, writer’s block is the worst! Almost as bad as having to put one fic on the backburner in order to work on a different one. That’s what happened to us, which is why it took us some extra time to get this chapter out. We hope it was worth the wait, so settle in and enjoy the calm before the storm . . .

 

He had been gone from his universe for only a week.  Just seven short days.  Yet Oliver Queen knew the length of his absence wasn't why he felt like an alien in his own life. In his real life.  Twenty-four hours would have been enough to change him, thanks to everything he had learned.   But discovering a world where he had survived the unthinkable and come out of it a hero. . . 

There was no way he could return to his own universe and resume his life as if he hadn't been changed.  There was no ‘business as normal’ for him. 

It first became clear during his meeting with Ray Palmer--the meeting he had been on his way to when Barry had snatched him, the meeting Oliver was more prepared for than he realized.  Because it was Ray, the absent-minded scientist/billionaire he had met in the other universe.  After ten minutes, Oliver grasped there were practically no differences between the two Rays, and with that knowledge, he was able to close the deal.  Palmer Tech and Queen Consolidated were now partners on the High Tech Corridor project.  And what had been a tepid, lackluster kind of interest on Ray's part had been transformed, thanks in part to Oliver's new insight into Ray.  An insight that let him put the project into a new light for Ray. 

“I have to say, Oliver, I've never been more excited about a partnership,” Ray had told him, shaking his hand enthusiastically upon the conclusion of their meeting.  “Your passion and commitment towards Starling City--I had no idea you felt as strongly as I did about this city.”

“Oh, I do, Ray.  This city is worth saving and we'll do it together,” Oliver had said. 

It wasn't just the city he was talking about, either.  Trying to make Starling City a better place was only part of his plans.  He was also looking to save himself from the life his parents wanted him to live.  From a world without color or passion. 

Thea had told him he needed those things in his life or he would turn into their parents.  His time in the other universe, the things he had learned there, made him realize just how important that goal was.  Because in the other universe . . . Robert and Moira Queen were not good people.  They had committed crimes and caused such great suffering, all in the name of ideals that were wrong. 

He didn't know if that was the case with his own parents, but it felt like it could be true, after a fashion.  Oliver was certainly going to find out what similarities existed between the two universes--if nothing else, he wanted to know if Tommy was Thea’s brother, too.  But before he began that daunting project, he had some errands to run.  Things that were much more interesting. 

As he stood in front of the display, Oliver felt overwhelmed.  He fished his phone out of his pocket, giving thanks he had left it in his car before his meeting with Ray, so therefore it had been safe when Barry had snatched him.  His eyes roamed over all the options while he waited for his sister to pick up. 

“Hewwo?”

The sound of Thea’s sleepy voice made his heart skip a beat.  Because this was  _ his _ Thea--it was his sister.  Even though there had been an instant connection with the other Thea, it wasn't the same as talking to the young woman he had known all her life. 

“Good morning, Speedy,” he said, trying to sound cheerful and normal.  “Late night?”

She muttered a string of unintelligible grumbles, broken up by a yawn.  “I don't know how you turned out as such a morning person.  I think Mom and Dad must have bought you from the gypsies.”

“Gypsies, Thea?  Really?” he asked, unable to hold back his smile.

“It’s gotta be something,” she said, yawning again.  “So why are you calling me, other than to rub your cheerfulness into my face?  Which, by the way, sounds good on you.  I can’t remember the last time you sounded so peppy.”  

“You know how you’ve been telling me I needed some pizzazz in my life, or I’d turn into Mom and Dad?” Oliver asked his sister.  

There was a long pause, and then Thea said tentatively yet hopefully, “I do . . . does that mean you’re finally gonna listen to me?”

“If I say yes, does that mean you’ll come help me paint my apartment?  Today?” 

“Today?  And you want to do the job yourself and not hire a decorator?”  She sounded shocked.  

“I’m done playing it safe, Thea,” he said quietly.  “If I pick the wrong color . . . I can just paint again.  But it’ll be my choice.  I’m--I’m ready to start making more choices.  Choices for myself, instead of what I think everyone wants me to do.”  

Oliver hadn’t realized how important Thea’s opinion was to him, not until this moment when he was waiting to hear what she had to say.  It was likely she would support him, since he was doing what she had suggested, but she must feel confused.  She would want an explanation for his change of heart.  

Which meant he had to decide if he was going to tell her what had happened to him.  And how she responded right now might be the best guide to whether he should tell her the whole truth or some version of it.  

“I am so proud of you.”  

Ducking his head, Oliver took a deep breath.  He couldn’t remember the last time someone had told him that, so simply and sincerely, as Thea had just done.  It was enough to make him clear his throat before he spoke, to give himself an extra moment to settle his emotions.  “Yeah?”  

“Yeah, Ollie,” she said gently.  “And yeah, I’ll help you paint.  Do you have the paint already?”

“I’m at the store now, trying to decide.  There’s just . . . so many colors,” he answered, gripping his phone tightly.

“With all the windows in your place, you could get away with a lot of different colors, Ollie,” Thea replied, her voice shifting into that determined, no-nonsense tone she had started to use more often lately.  “Dark colors, unusual ones like brown or orange . . . But you know what I’d say to do?  Just pick what feels good.  Whatever is your favorite color.  Start there.”  

His eyes roamed over the color chips again, letting Thea’s words sink in.  “Yeah . . .” he said, starting to imagine it.  

“I’ll meet you at your place in an hour,” she said.  “Go crazy, Ollie.”  

Chuckling softly, he nodded.  “Okay, Thea.  See you in an hour.”  

Hanging up the phone after his sister’s goodbye, Oliver slid his phone into his pocket.  Then, he reached out and plucked a paint chip up, taking a closer look at it.  

This was it.  

After a few moments of looking over the choices, Oliver gathered the paint chips and took them to the counter.  “Hi.  I’d like three gallons of Emerald Forest, two gallons of Country Weekend, and two gallons of Silent Film, please.”  

The clerk raised his eyebrow.  “That’s a lot of paint.  And a lot of green.  There’s no refunds on mixed paint, you know . . . ”

“That’s fine,” Oliver said with a pleasant smile.  “I just want to make sure I get the job done right.”

With a shrug, the clerk got to work and Oliver watched, feeling his spirits rise.  It was more than he and Thea could do today, Oliver knew, but that was all right.  They could get started, at least.  He could see it now: the dark green on the walls of the living room and his bedroom, the lighter green in the bathrooms and the kitchen, and the guest bedroom, office and hall in the grey.  Since most of his furniture was grey, he wouldn’t have to worry about changing those pieces right away.  But he definitely wanted to get a new bed for his room, more pillows, some pictures that actually meant something to him and weren’t some bland generic crap chosen by a decorator . . . 

Smiling to himself, Oliver hefted the cans of paint into his cart and gathered the rest of the necessary supplies.  This was perhaps more literal than Thea had meant when she said she needed color in his life, but it was a place to start.  

The next step?  Answering two tricky questions.  How to tell Thea about his week in another universe . . . and should he find out if there was a Felicity Smoak in this universe.  

Only one of those questions was easy to answer.  

XXX

Even though he was in good shape, Oliver’s muscles were aching as he eased himself down onto the couch.  This burn, though, wasn’t from pushing himself too hard during a workout.  It was more like what he had experienced during his training with Digg and Roy and the other Oliver.  It felt good.  Satisfying.  

Once Thea had seen just how much painting he wanted to do, she had called in reinforcements.  Soon, Tommy and Laurel, as well as a few of Thea’s friends, had joined in to help them.  Now, ten hours later, all of the rooms were painted and everyone had left after a dinner of pizza and beer.  

All alone in his apartment, Oliver looked around and felt a kind of peace he wasn’t used to experiencing.  Or maybe it was more that it was a feeling he was more used to experiencing in the other universe, not here.  What did it say that he felt more himself in another world than his own?  

Well, no more.  He wanted to be the man he had discovered he could be.  The man who had goals and passions that weren’t about the bottom line or increasing profits.  Being CEO of Queen Consolidated was all well and good--and he had plans for his family’s company--yet it wasn’t enough.  There was more he could do.  

And he knew where he wanted to start.  

What would it hurt to find out if there was a Felicity Smoak in this universe?  He could at least figure out if she was alive, if she existed.  Because maybe--maybe she was unique and was only a part of the other universe, put there in that world alone solely to help that Oliver.  

Rubbing a hand over his face, Oliver told himself that this was a bad idea.  Yet he didn’t stop himself as he pushed himself off the couch with a wince, as he walked slowly towards his office, as he booted up his sleek silver laptop.  

He might not have Felicity’s hacking skills, but he could at least do a Google search.  But with his fingers poised over the keyboard, Oliver balled up his fists and then leaned back in his chair.  

In one sense, it would be so much easier if the Felicity he had met was the only Felicity in all the worlds.  It would mean she really was where she was supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to do.  She had clearly been made to serve a certain purpose.  

Yet if she wasn’t unique in that way . . . that meant there might be a Felicity Smoak in this universe.  A Felicity who might be the right age, who might be heterosexual, who might be single and available.  A Felicity who might fall in love with him.  

Would it matter, though, when he was already in love?  In love with the Felicity he had met, the one with the whip-smart mind and enormous heart, the one with the sunny blonde hair and two-toned glasses, the one with carefully-concealed insecurities and well-hidden secrets?  

If he sought out another Felicity, wouldn’t he be cheating?  He couldn’t help thinking this was too much like something he would have done in his Ollie days.  Or something his other self might do, if their positions had been reversed.  Only he would probably be seeking out this universe’s Laurel . . . 

Blowing out a breath, he sighed.  That wasn’t fair.  His counterpart had seemed pretty much over Laurel, based off their conversation after the party.  Oliver thought his heroic self had been listening to what he had to say and was ready to take Oliver’s advice to heart by making a change.  Starting with showing Felicity how important she was to him.  

All of this didn’t help him now--it was just a way for him to stall from making a decision.  Was it like the old song said?   _ If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with _ .  Because Oliver knew if a Felicity existed in this world, he would track her down.  He had to see if that same spark existed between himself and this universe’s Felicity, as there had been in the Arrow’s universe.

Perhaps it might be better to leave this book closed.  To put the question of Felicity on the back burner, while he tried to determine if Thea was Malcolm Merlyn’s daughter here, too.  To find out if his parents were part of the same Undertaking in this world that had so devastated the other Starling City.  

His fingers itched and he longed for the feel of a bow and arrow, for the simple clarity of nocking an arrow and aiming and firing.  Feeling the burn in his arm at pulling back the bowstring, hearing the twang as he released it and the sting of the bowstring against his left arm.  Seeing the arrow sink into the target and feeling accomplished and in-control.  

That was something he could do: order a bow for himself, find an archery range in Starling City, pursue a new ‘hobby’ as Thea had urged.  A hobby that could be part of his eventual plan to save his city from any threat he might discover.  

Yet when he leaned forward, settling his fingers back onto his laptop’s keys, there was only one question he wanted answered.  

Oliver typed the words “Felicity Smoak” into the Google search box.  Just seeing her name, right there on his screen, made his heart flip in his chest.  It conjured up the last image he had of her, with her lips parted and her eyes wide as she looked up at him, for once speechless.  

“Do you understand?  Be happy, Felicity,” he had told her.  That was what he wanted for her.  It was what he wanted for himself.  Could he really live without knowing if there could be a chance with the Felicity in this universe?  

That was what made him press the enter key and wait for the list of results.  It was long, which he took as a good sign, until he started to read.  

_ Did you mean Felicity  _ **_Smoke_ ** _?  _ appeared at the top of the page, making him frown.  Oliver scrolled through the list, finding references to a candle company, a skywriting firm, and a few websites where the names Felicity and Smoak appeared close to each other, but not together.

There were thirteen pages of results and he didn’t give up until he reached the last page.  It was only then that he realized his eyes were burning with unshed tears.  

“She doesn’t exist,” he said, his voice echoing in the silent apartment.  Oliver looked down, feeling a tear streak down his face.  Roughly rubbing his hand over his eyes, he tried to hold back the tears, to bury them down deep.  

He had been wrong.  It wasn’t easier, knowing that there was no Felicity here.  It hurt.  It really fucking hurt.  And now he was wondering if he had made the right decision to leave, to leave so quickly, without finding out if Felicity might have been willing to come here with him . . . 

“Like she would have come with you, though,” he said aloud bitterly, hearing how his voice cracked with emotion.  “Not with everything she was doing there, being a hero . . .”

That was what Felicity Smoak was: a hero.  How could he have asked her to give that up in order to come with him?  To settle into his humdrum life with him, a life that she would surely come to resent--along with him?  And once resentment had set in, a relationship was doomed.  

No, he couldn’t regret not staying longer, nor his decision to not ask Felicity to come with him.  She was in the place she was supposed to be, while he was in the place he was supposed to be.  

This was a sign.  No Felicity meant no distractions.  Now he could focus on his family, on his city.  There would be nothing to hold him back from being the man he needed to be.  The man who could have been worthy of Felicity.  Even if she would never know what he had done in order to be that man.  

At the thought of Felicity never knowing how she had inspired him, Oliver felt the tears threaten again, but instead, he gave his head a shake and rose from the chair.  

It was time for bed.  Tomorrow, he had to start on his mission to save his city and protect his sister.  He wouldn’t be able to do that without a full night of sleep.  

Yet that night, Oliver Queen became very familiar with the ceiling of his bedroom--a ceiling he didn’t really see, because all he could see was a pair of beautiful blue eyes, a pair of pink lips, and a smile that had changed his life.  

XXX  

It probably came as no surprise to anyone how quickly the party dwindled down, once Barry returned from delivering Oliver back to his universe. And even though Felicity did her very best to keep her chin up, acting as normal as she could, trying not to bring the mood down, she knew that anyone with eyes could tell that the life had gone out of the party.  Just like how the life had gone out of her.  

The Legends, starting with their leader Sara, were more than happy to offer a ride on the Wave Rider to Team Flash, since their speedster was a bit depleted in energy and would need to eat more than was humanly possible in order to replenish enough to regain his super speed.  Goodbyes were quick with everyone beating a nearly-hasty retreat.  Felicity wondered if they were worried about being around when she collapsed--but that wasn’t what she was going to do.  

After the Legends and Team Flash were gone, Diggle was the next one out the door.  Thanks to the text message he received and his not-inconspicuous grin, Felicity figured it had to be Lyla and wiggled her fingers at him in goodbye. 

And then there were four. Tommy and Oliver were a few feet away, talking quietly, while Charlie was behind the bar. The redhead motioned for Felicity to approach and she was so tired--so, so tired emotionally, after everything that had happened today--that she had no desire to refuse. Instead she found herself sitting on one of the bar stools, in front of Tommy’s girlfriend.

Without missing a beat, Charlie grabbed four shot glasses from the rack along with a bottle of tequila and filled them all up with the clear liquid. After setting the bottle back in it’s rightful place, she moved two of the glasses towards Felicity and the remaining two towards her side of the bar.

“Now, I’m no doctor,” she said with a grin.  “However, it is my professional and personal opinion that you take two of these and if needed call me in the morning,” Charlie offered, grabbing one of the glasses and holding it up towards the Felicity.

Taking one of her glasses, Felicity clinked the glass with Charlie’s and then took the shot, quickly followed by the second. Tommy ambled over at that point, settling one of his hands on his girlfriend’s lower back.

“Ready to go?” he asked.   

“Ready,” the redhead answered with a few nods.  “Let’s go, Felicity.” 

Not even a strong protest from Felicity would have dissuaded Charlie from giving her a ride home, and Felicity barely protested at all.  It wasn’t that she was intoxicated--she had only had the two shots of tequila and a glass of wine during the festivities, which wasn’t enough to get her buzzed--but she appreciated the fact she didn’t have to drive.  Or be left alone with Oliver.

Once inside the safety of her townhouse, she moved on autopilot to her bedroom and stripped off her dress, caring very little where her clothes landed. Her heels were traded for fuzzy socks, her dress for an oversized MIT sweatshirt and fluffy PJ pants, her ponytail undone. Very much like how she felt. 

The intended stop at her fridge, in order to get some ice cream since it was her favorite processing food, got waylaid. Somehow, her body took a detour towards her couch, where she curled up with the blanket she kept over the back. 

And once inside the warm cocoon she’d made for herself, she cried. 

It was so much more than just the pain of having seen the man she had inadvertently fallen for leave. She was used to men leaving. Her father had left when she was younger. In college, Cooper had left once she had made it impossible for him to steal her work. It wasn’t the fact that  Oliver had left. No. It was the fact that she believed, deep in her soul, that he would have stayed if things were different.

But the cards they had been dealt was from a deck that Felicity couldn’t stack in her favor. He was a man from another universe.  It wasn’t like having a long distance relationship built in trust and faith. It was just not possible. There had been no choice for Oliver but to leave. He had a life there: a family and friends he needed to reconnect with, as well as a job he was very good at. Even if it had been a possibility, he shouldn’t have stayed.

Tears of sadness, longing and frustration, rolled down her cheeks. They just kept coming, and coming, until a darkness born of exhaustion and emotional turmoil swallowed her into a fitful sleep.

XXX

“You’ve gotta do something.” Roy said as soon as Oliver entered the club, putting aside a half-open bottle of beer. “Having me slap water was a piece of cake compared to this . . . ”

Oliver wasn’t sure exactly what was so horrible about the task which had apparently sent Roy running for the hills with frustration:  something about having to handle the RAM sticks for a few of the computers in the lair. His explanation had been a mishmash of tech words--Oliver was sure the young man was either butchering the exact words or being so technical that the explanation went over his head. The message was simple enough, though.

Felicity was driving Roy crazy.

“I’ll take care of it,” Oliver had replied with a nod of his head, before heading into the belly of the beast.

The foundry was as well lit as he had ever seen it, his footsteps echoing against the metal steps as he went. There was no one else in sight aside from the petite blonde genius, the one who had managed to scare away Roy, who had grown up in the worst part of the Glades.  

She was sitting on one of the stools Oliver usually occupied when he sharpened his arrows.  The table before her was covered with bits and pieces of computers, as well as cables and teeny tiny screws. She had a magnifying glass at her left side, a strong lamp shining as a spotlight on her right and a small screwdriver, with a paisley pink handle, in her hand.

She was so taken with her work, she didn’t notice his arrival which gave him plenty of time to observe her. There were golden wisps of hair escaping her usually neat ponytail, making her seem younger somehow. Her lips were a muted shade of pink, her glasses slipping down her nose as her blue eyes focused on the task at hand. She wore a cobalt blue long sleeved sweater, with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, dark grey jeans and black leather shoes, the kind he had heard Thea call ‘booties’.

All in all, it wasn’t too much of a departure from her usual put together look, yet things were different. He knew it wasn’t on her part though. Oliver had done a lot of thinking since his lookalike had left a few days earlier. He had thought of all the things they had talked about, but most importantly, he had thought about his treatment of Felicity.  And as much as he hated to admit it, his counterpart had been right. Keeping his team--his friends--at arm's length wasn’t really helping anyone.   

“Hey.”

Even though he purposefully kept his voice was soft, it was clear that he had startled Felicity.  The screwdriver almost slipped from her hand as she turned her head to look at him. And for a moment, there was a warmth in her eyes he had never seen from her before.  It felt so good that when her expression changed and she looked away, he felt cold all over.  It slammed him right in the chest when he realized that once upon a time, that warmth had been directed at him.  But not anymore.  In a way, to Felicity, he had become the ‘other’ Oliver.

“Didn’t expect to see you down here,” she said, once more focusing on the piece of equipment in her hand and steadying her grip on the screwdriver. “Since things have been quiet and everyone is taking a bit of a breather.”

“I still wanted to drop by, maybe get some target practice done,” he replied, approaching the table and shifting his gaze from his team member to the contents. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m updating the operating system on the computers and I wanted to make sure that the memory sticks were pairing up correctly on some of the others so I took them out to make sure they were clean,” she said, glancing his way and offering him a tiny smile. 

“Roy did  _ not  _ appreciate being put into clean up duty, let me tell you,” Felicity continued, apparently relaxing a little.  “It’s not that glamorous of a job and it takes a lot of patience.  I don’t think I caught him in a good day for that.”  She set down the screwdriver and picked up a clear piece of eraser from the table, holding it between her thumb and index finger as she studied it as a jeweler would a precious stone. 

“Maybe I should’ve asked Digg instead,” she added, completely focused on her task.  She didn’t even notice how Oliver was gazing at her.  “He would’ve probably been a better choice for the job, considering how meticulous he is when it comes to cleaning his firearms and all, but he’s still holed up somewhere super-secret with Lyla. At least I hope it’s with Lyla, or else he’s gonna have some serious explaining to do. Not to me, obviously, but to his girlfriend who’s also the head of a highly secretive intelligence organization.  If that doesn’t spell trouble for illicit affairs, I don’t know what does,” Felicity said with a shake of her head. 

“Anyway, when I took out the memory sticks, I decided to check on some of the other parts of our set up and found that a few of the video cards were loose and . . .” Felicity’s voice trailed off, then she smiled at him.  “I take it, by the confused look on your face, that I totally lost you, didn’t I?”

“Felicity, would you like to have lunch with me?”

There was a long silence after his question, his blue eyes catching her every reaction to his blurted words.  Had he meant to ask her that?  Not really.  Or perhaps not right then and there, but it had been such a long time since Felicity had rambled like that, as only she could, that even though there was that slight hiccup where she had looked at him and seen the Oliver from another universe, he had felt like taking a shot at something out of character.

Surprise was painted all over her features mingling with curiosity in her blue eyes.  Very much like the first time he met her, she tilted her head to the side while looking at him. 

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you’d like to have lunch,” he repeated, shoving his hands onto the pockets of his jeans. “With me.”

“Why?”

The question threw him for a loop. Why did he want her to have lunch with him? Should he go with the truth and admit he was trying new actions on for size?  Trying to let a bit more of Oliver Queen into his life, instead of just being swallowed up by his crusade?  Should he tell her that he needed to have more of her light in his life, even if he hadn’t done anything to deserve it as of late, if ever?

“It looks like you’ve been working for a while and it is a bit after lunchtime . . . ” He began to answer, as noncommittally as he could, but then she tilted her head the other way.  He sighed and let out a soft chuckle at how she refused to let him off easily. “I wanted to take you out to lunch to both apologize for being less than amicable as of late--”

“You mean for being a jerk,” she quipped.

“And to maybe try something new.” Oliver continued.

Felicity gave him a long look.  “Something new,” she echoed.

“Yeah.” 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but his palms were actually sweating at their conversation.  It reminded him of his conversation with the other Oliver and how the man had wiped his hands on his thighs. Damn, he shouldn’t have put his hands in his pockets.

“Oliver, what is this?” she asked, setting down the eraser as she stood to face him.

“Well, the idea is that we get something to eat, somewhere outside of these walls, together.”  Oliver tried to rub his palms inside his pockets, even as he felt his thumb rub against his fingers.  Because Felicity’s reaction was making him nervous.  

“No, not that. I know what ‘going to lunch’ is. What I mean is, what is this?” she asked, motioning between them with her hand, her blue eyes stormy. “Oliver, we don’t do ‘lunch’. We don’t do ‘something new’. And we certainly don’t do ‘outside these walls, together’. To the outside world there is no ‘we’.”

In spite of her words being one hundred percent accurate, each one was like a punch in the gut.  He considered Felicity one of the most important people in his life.  The idea that the outside world didn’t know that they were at least friends . . . once, that idea would have been a comfort for him.  But now, it bothered him.  

“I know. I think it’s time to change that,” he said.

“Why?”

“Felicity--” he said, feeling his frustration rise. 

Felicity folded her arms over her chest.  “No, Oliver. Why? Why change things now, all of a sudden?” she asked.  “Do you realize that you have walked me to my car exactly three times in the two years I’ve been working with you down here? Three times, Oliver. Three out of the seven hundred and thirty days we’ve interacted in one way or another, counting weekends and all that.” she stated, her confusion evident.  

“Oliver, outside of these basement and upstairs, in Verdant, ‘we’ don’t exist. So. Why?”

“Because maybe we should!” he finally growled, taking a step towards her. “Because maybe I have been doing things the wrong way, by thinking I couldn’t be me and the Arrow. Because maybe I can have a life that has both, that has everything.  And the first step is out there. With lunch. So that the world, outside these walls, knows that we exist.”

If he hadn’t been paying close attention, he would have missed the flicker of hurt on her features, but he didn’t.  It was there for only a second--a hint of vulnerability that he rarely saw from the blonde genius anymore, one that he hadn’t seen for a long time now.  Then her demeanor was once again schooled back into perfect composure.

“I need some air,” she said, gingerly pulling down on her sleeves so the hem almost covered her hands to her fingertips, while walking past him.

“Fe-li-cit-y.” 

“No, Oliver,” she said, whirling around to look at him, standing near the first step of the metal staircase. “I get it: you want a more well rounded life.  And I would be all for it in any other way, but this? This is too much.”

He approached her then, curling his fingers in the fabric of his jeans. His heart was pounding as he prepared to put it all on the line. 

“Is it?” he asked, stopping only a foot or so away. “This, it could be everything,” he said, softly, pleadingly. “I know the timing might not be right and I haven’t been at my best, even before I went away but, Felicity--if I learned anything while I was traveling with Sara and her crew, it’s that you have to be willing to open your eyes to how things really are.” 

Pausing, he took a breath, not used to saying so much to her.  “And I am sorry, Felicity,” he admitted, hoping the sincerity came through in his voice.  “I know that I did a good job of making it seem impossible and unrealistic for us to be anything but it’s not. We . . . we are not unthinkable.”

“You don’t get to decide, all of the sudden, that there could be a ‘we’, Oliver,” she stated firmly, steadily, resolutely.  “That’s not how it works. Especially not when I am finally okay with the fact that there couldn’t be.” 

Oliver ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep himself under control.  Or maybe just trying to gain some control.  

“Why not?” he asked.  “When I came back to this city, I thought I would have to do all of this alone.  Then Diggle got onboard--then you came along--and since then, no matter what, even when Diggle and I didn’t see eye to eye, even with all the drama from Laurel and her dad, with Thea and my mom, there has always been one constant in my life. In both my lives. You, Felicity,” he said, taking a chance to step forward and place his hands on her shoulders. “You have always seen me. You have been there for me. You have made me better. You might have even lov--”

“Don’t,” she murmured, pleading eyes locking with his.

His breath caught in his throat at the look in her eyes.  At how she so desperately didn’t want him to keep talking.  “Felicity--”

“No, Oliver,” she said, shaking her head. “I am so, so, so glad that your trip made you be open to a better life. I have always wanted that for you. And the fact that I have helped you along . . . I want you to know that I don’t regret it, not one second of it.  Well, maybe the ridiculous lies you gave me at first, those were cringeworthy,” she told him with a sad smile.  

Her smile faded as she continued. “But Oliver, if you care about me, at all, you need to stop,” she whispered. “Stop dangling maybes. Say we can’t ever be together. Say you’ve never loved me--”

“Don’t ask me to say I don’t love you,” he whispered.  Because if he had realized one thing, he did love Felicity.  He loved her light and her compassion, her humor and her kindness.  He loved her. 

To his surprise, Felicity leaned forward, lightly resting rested her forehead on his collarbone and hiding her face from him for a moment. 

“You might,” she whispered, pulling back to look up into his eyes. “But we both know it’s not the kind of love that I wanted from you,” she offered, softly placing her hand on his chest, over his quickly-beating heart. “It’s not the kind of love I deserve,” she admitted.

“I could,” he muttered, thickly.  

“Maybe . . . and that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?” she said with another sad smile. “You  _ might _ .”

He had not anticipated this.  But he should have, shouldn’t he?  If he knew Felicity as well as he claimed to, he should have known the kind of love he was offering Felicity wasn’t enough for her.  That after two years of ignoring her feelings, ignoring her, it wasn’t enough to say he might love her like she deserved, if she gave him a chance.  

“Felicity . . . ” he murmured, thumbs stroking her shoulders. “I . . . don’t want to lose you.”

With a heavy sigh, she glanced over her shoulder and then took a step back and up, onto the first step of the metal staircase.  She began to turn to leave, her body in profile to his gaze.

“I was never yours, Oliver,” she reminded him. “You never wanted me.”

And the truthfulness of those softly spoken words were a vice grip on his heart, just like her steps on the staircase and the sound of the door closing.

With a deep breath, he shook his head and moved across the foundry, towards the case that held his bow and quiver. As he stood before the wall they used for target practice, Oliver made up his mind. It would take time, but he would keep trying to make her see that they could be good together.  Right now, so soon after everything with Slade and the other Oliver, it wasn’t the right time.  But there could be a ‘we’ in their future--he could be happy just like the other Oliver had told him to try to be. All so he could try and make her be happy, too.

She deserved it. 

And as the first arrow pierced the bullseye, he decided he wasn’t going to let go of that truth.

End, Chapter 12


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer’s block continues to suck. But as we get to the really juicy stuff, the plot points we’ve been cackling about since we started writing this fic, we’re hoping that we’ll kick our muses right into gear!
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy this super-long chapter, to make up for the delay!

 

As he walked towards the ballroom of the Starling Grand Hotel, Oliver could almost pretend like nothing had changed from the last time he had been here.  He was wearing the same Armani tux, there was the same luxurious decorations, and the spacious ballroom was filled with the same people.  The only difference was that tonight, the gala was in support of the Save Star Bay campaign.  

Deep down, though, Oliver knew he was different.  He was just trying to act like he wasn’t.  Attempting to live a double life: being the new, responsible Oliver Queen on the surface, while underneath, he was someone else.  Not Ollie Queen, playboy douchebag.  

No . . . underneath, he was trying to become his own version of the Arrow.  All on his own, without the five years of hell on a deserted island.  His time in the other universe had opened his eyes.  Oliver couldn’t go back to living in the dark, being an unwitting pawn in his parents’ games.  

That ended now.  Tonight.  As soon as he could get his parents alone for a private discussion.  

But first, he needed to act like Oliver Queen, CEO.  That meant stopping by the bar for a glass of Scotch, which he sipped as he mingled with old family friends and flirted with a few women, forgetting them as soon as they walked away.  It was all about keeping up appearances, hiding what he was really doing.  

“Oliver, it’s good to see you.”  

Turning around, Oliver made sure his polite smile was firmly in place.  “Malcolm--and Rebecca,” he said in surprise.  “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”  

“No one was expecting to see me,” Rebecca said, holding her hand out to him.  She smiled up at him from her wheelchair.  “I had a good day, so I talked Malcolm into letting me come to the party.  But like Cinderella, I have a strict curfew.”  

“I’m glad you had a good day,” Oliver said, not meaning the words in the slightest.  Because Rebecca Merlyn’s presence was not a good thing for what he needed to do tonight.  Ever since she had been shot fifteen years ago, Rebecca had been a recluse, withdrawn from Starling City society.  Having her at tonight’s gala would mean Robert and Moira would probably stick like glue to the Merlyns.  After all, the Queens and the Merlyns had been friends for decades.  The pillars of society.  

And it was all a lie, Oliver knew.  He had finally gathered enough evidence to confront his parents tonight.  To draw them away during the gala and tell them they needed to talk, impressing upon them how important that conversation was.  

Because he knew what the Unidac Industries merger had really been about.  He knew what his parents, and Tommy’s parents, and Frank Bertinelli, and more upper one percenters, were planning to do to the Glades.  And he wasn’t going to let that happen.  

“This is a sight for sore eyes: Malcolm and Rebecca Merlyn!”  Moira Queen’s voice was full of delight as she approached the group.  She shook Malcolm’s hand warmly, before leaning down to kiss Rebecca’s cheek.  “Rebecca, you’re practically glowing.  I do hope you’ll consider joining society more--it obviously agrees with you.”

“You’re such a flatterer, Moira,” Rebecca said, her eyes dancing.  “I think I’m glowing just from being around your charming son.  I thought you said you couldn’t stand his hair?  It looks quite dashing to me.”  

“Oliver finally gave up on his “serial killer in training” hair,” Robert Queen said, clapping his son on the shoulder as he joined them.  “We’re all very thankful for that.”

It was all Oliver could do to smile at their soft laughter instead of gritting his teeth.  “Well, I’m getting older.  Learning more,” he finally managed to say.  

He knew how important it was to keep playing the game.  If nothing else, there was Thea.  His sister had to be protected from all of this.  He didn’t trust anyone in this world to keep Thea safe if he wasn’t around.

“Dad, I was hoping I could have a word with you and Mom?” Oliver said.  He looked at Malcolm and Rebecca and adopted a regretful smile.  “You know how it is: business happens at all hours of the day or night.  And another thing I’ve learned is how lucky I am, to have my parents’ help with Queen Consolidated.”  

“Now, now, it’s a party, son,” Robert chided him.  “It’s Friday night--you should go have some fun with people your own age.  Helena’s here, I see, and she looks very lonesome.”  

“Yes, Oliver--you should bring Helena for brunch on Sunday,” Moira added.  

But Oliver stood his ground.  “It’ll only take a minute,” he said, locking eyes with his father.  

Robert frowned, searching Oliver’s expression.  His gaze flicked towards his wife’s, and then Robert’s attention returned to Oliver.  “Very well, if it’s that important.  Malcolm, Rebecca,” he said, turning to the Merlyns, “don’t go anywhere--this won’t take long.”  

With that, Robert stalked away and Moira shook her head with a smile.  “It’s been too long since Robert was young and ambitious and hungry.  I’m just glad to see signs of it in Oliver,” she said to the Merlyns as she patted the lapel of Oliver’s suit.  

Reaching out, Oliver quickly shook Malcolm’s hand.  “My apologies, but I’ll get my parents back to you shortly.”  

“Of course, Oliver--I say, you’re building up some callouses on your hand,” Malcolm replied, gripping Oliver’s hand a bit tighter than necessary.  

His archery practice--his hands were becoming rougher, the more hours he worked to improve.  Oliver’s lips parted, his mind whirling, but somehow, he managed to say, “I guess now I know why my trainer wanted me to wear gloves when I was weightlifting.”  

Malcolm nodded slowly, not looking entirely convinced, but Oliver didn’t have time to deal with him right now.  Not with his parents waiting.  

Not with the conversation they needed to have.

XXX

It wasn’t right to feel like he was sneaking into his own building.  Well, the building he co-owned, at least.  But that was how Oliver felt, when he stepped into Verdant and headed for the secured entrance to the lair.  He felt the need to be furtive, secretive, guarded.  Because he didn’t want to attract extra attention, and there were just so many people around . . . 

His attempts to show Felicity he was trying to change, that he wanted more for his life than being the Arrow, were moving slowly.  He knew she had doubts about his motives, and for good reason.  It looked bad to her, like he was moving too fast, like he was jealous.  And the thing was, he  _ was  _ jealous.  He was jealous of how the other Oliver, the one that Felicity cared about, had gained so much in such a short time.  How easily he had it all: family and friends and a real job, along with archery and strategy and the Arrow.  

That was the kind of man Felicity wanted?  Well, he could be that kind of man, too.  

Tightly gripping the bouquet in his hand, Oliver moved towards the door of the lair.  He was lifting his hand to punch in the code when a throat cleared behind him.  

In a manner that totally didn’t befit the Arrow, he whirled around, the cellophane around the flowers crinkling loudly.  

“What are those?” Thea asked, her arms folded over her chest.  

He looked down at the flowers, then back up at his sister.  “Um . . . do you really have to ask?”  

Thea rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm.  “Come with me,” she said, dragging him away from the door to the lair.  

“Thea, I need to get downstairs--”

“Nope, not until we talk about this,” Thea said, pulling him towards the bar, where Tommy was dusting the bottles.  “Tommy, we need to talk some sense into Ollie here.”  

Slowly rubbing a cloth over a bottle, Tommy raised an eyebrow.  “You say that like I’ve succeeded before.”  

“This time, it’s serious,” Thea insisted.  She pointed to the flowers in Oliver’s hand.  “See?”  

Tommy slowly put down the bottle, his limp barely noticeable as he walked around the bar, his eyes locked on the flowers.  “Oh, Oliver . . .” he said, his voice mournful.

“Nobody died,” Oliver said defensively.  “They’re just flowers.”  

“Uh-huh.  They’re ‘just flowers’,” Tommy repeated.

Thea rested a hand on one of her hips, which was cocked to the side.  “And who are they for?”

Oliver sighed.  “Do we really--okay,” he said, seeing Thea’s expression grow even firmer and more determined.  “They’re for Felicity.”  

“Uh-huh.  And why do you have flowers for Felicity?” she asked, sounding like she knew the answer.  

“To . . . make her feel appreciated?” he replied slowly, resisting the urge to shift his feet or look away or give any other sign of nervousness.  

Tommy groaned and covered his face with his hand, while Thea looked towards the ceiling.  “Ollie . . .”

“She deserves to feel appreciated!”

“No one is disagreeing with you,” Tommy said, lifting his hands.  

Thea sighed and took the flowers from Oliver.  “I’m taking these to the office.  You never brought flowers for Felicity.  Tommy, you explain why to him.”  

Both men watched as their sister walked away, the heels of her shoes clicking against the floor.  Then Tommy turned to Oliver.  “I think this conversation requires a drink.”

He moved behind the bar, picking up a bottle of vodka and pouring two shots.  

“Vodka?  That’s not your normal choice,” Oliver said.  

“I thought it’d make you feel more comfortable,” Tommy admitted.  “Or maybe it’s for me, ‘cause God knows I didn’t want to have this conversation with you and vodka gets me drunk fast.”  

Frowning, Oliver sat on a barstool.  “You’re acting like you’re scared of how I’m going to react.”  

“I am scared--because lately, it’s like I’ve had the best of both worlds,” Tommy said, resting his hands on the bar.  “I had my best friend Ollie and the hero who inspired me to never give up after what happened to me--but with what I have to say to you now, I might lose all of that.”  

Oliver did his best to stay focused on the matter at hand, even if he wanted to argue with Tommy about his definition of a hero.  Because Oliver certainly didn’t live up to that description.  But the longer they talked, the longer he was kept away from Felicity.  

“So talk,” Oliver said, lifting his glass to Tommy.  “Prochnost.”  

Tommy sighed and picked up his glass.  “Here’s mud in your eye.”  

In unison, the movement honed after years of drinking together, both of them threw back their shots at the same moment.  The burn of the liquor didn’t bother Oliver too much, but Tommy coughed a little and shook his head.  

“Right,” he wheezed softly.  “Okay.  Look, you know how much I care about you.  And I have to say, it’s been great to see this new leaf you’ve turned over: taking an interest in the club, hanging out with me and Charlie--you’re even apartment-hunting, Ollie!  It’s past time for you to stop living down in the basement.”  

“I know there’s a ‘but’ coming, so . . .” Oliver said, gesturing for Tommy to spill.  

His best friend sighed again.  “But, man, you have got to ease up with Felicity.”  

Tommy’s words made Oliver look down at the bar.  At how his hands were held in his lap, his fingers rubbing against his thumb.  He knew it was coming, yet hearing the words from Tommy . . . 

“Have I crossed a line beyond appropriate behavior?” Oliver asked.  “Did . . . did Felicity say something to you, or to Thea, and you’ve just been waiting to have an intervention?”

“It’s not like that, Ollie,” Tommy said, sounding frustrated.  “Look, you’re my best friend--but Felicity’s become a really good friend to me over the past year and a half, and I want the best for both of you.  And right now?  You’re not it for each other.”  

Oliver looked up from his inspection of his hands.  “You think I don’t want the best for her?”  

“I know you do,” Tommy said.  “Of course you do--it’s Felicity.  The person who didn’t want the best for her is the kind of person you take out with a bow and arrow, because clearly that person is evil.”

“I don’t get it,” Oliver said, feeling the irritation grow within himself.  “All you’ve been telling me for the past year is to move on, to stop hiding in the dark.  And I’m finally doing that, and you’re telling me--what?”

“That if you’re trying to get over Laurel with Felicity, you need to stop.  Now.”  

The firmness in Tommy’s voice, the way he had brought his arms up to cross his chest, made Oliver sit back slightly on his stool.  Because . . . damn it, he was tired of everyone misjudging him.  He had let it go, had ignored the muttered conversations behind his back, the pointed looks whenever he mentioned Laurel’s name.  But it was well past time to clue everyone in on the truth of the situation.

“You all think I’m still hung up on Laurel,” Oliver said, holding Tommy’s gaze.  “After I told her everything about me, after I told her I was the Arrow and what I had done while I was gone, and after she left me.  When she chose her career and Ivy Town over me and Starling City.”  

Tommy’s eyebrows drew together.  “Oliver?”  

Standing up, he leaned over the bar for the bottle of vodka and refilled his glass.  He threw back the shot and slammed the glass onto the bar.  Then he looked back at his best friend, one of the few people on Earth who knew everything about him and was still here.  “It hasn’t been about Laurel for a long time.  With everything happening with Slade, the last thing I wanted to do was talk about another one of my failures.  But you should have known, Tommy, that I wasn’t pining away for a woman who turned her back on me.  Maybe it was what I deserved for what I did to Laurel in the past--no, it  _ is  _ what I deserve,” Oliver corrected himself, hearing a crack in his voice.  

He pushed back from the bar, still holding Tommy’s gaze.  “But part of what I’m trying to do now?  I’m working to remember that not everything I get is what I deserve.  That not everything is my fault.  And that if it is, I should at least try and make it better.  That’s what I’m doing with Felicity.  But if even you can’t see that--”  

His voice truly failed him and Oliver stopped, unable to keep going.  Not without wanting to break down, or break all the glassware in the bar, or get Barry to take him back in time so he never got on that damn boat in the first place.  Since that would have given everyone the Oliver they really wanted.  

Because that was what this was, wasn’t it?  Everyone wished that the other Oliver was the one who belonged here, not him.  So even though he was trying, it didn’t matter.  

No--that wasn’t right.  It did matter.  It mattered for him.  He wanted more.  Laurel leaving had been a wake-up call, one that he had tried to ignore and avoid.  Then the other universe’s Oliver had shown up, being everything that Oliver felt like he wasn’t:  the polished businessman, the good friend, the man that Felicity could fall for.  

Why couldn’t he try to be more than just the Arrow?  

“Oliver,” Tommy said in a choked voice.  He came out from behind the bar, moving quickly and grimacing, his hand rubbing at his thigh above his prosthetic. “Oliver, you know all I want is for you to be happy.  But can you honestly say that competing with another version of yourself for Felicity’s affections is making you happy?”  

“I have to try,” Oliver found himself whispering.  

Tommy shook his head regretfully.  “Then you’re just going to end up unhappy.  And hurting Felicity.”  

There had to be another way.  Wasn’t that what Felicity always told him?  Whenever things looked bleak and he thought he had nowhere to go, she would smile at him and encourage him to look for another solution.  He was trying to find another way, one that would make both of them happy.  As happy as they could be, considering everything he had been through since the Gambit had sunk and Felicity with all the secrets she kept about herself, the secrets that made her so guarded with her heart.  

The heart she had given to his other self so easily, it would seem.  

But that Oliver was back in his universe.  And even if all that there could ever be between himself and Felicity was friendship, that would be a step towards happiness, right?  

Oliver rubbed a hand over his forehead and turned away from Tommy.  His mind was so confused and he felt so lost.  All he wanted right now was something that would make things simple.  Shooting a few arrows might help.  So without another word to his best friend, Oliver headed towards the lair.

XXX

There was something peaceful about taking care of the weapons you depended on in your day to day life.  To a lot of other people, the thought of upkeep was to be seen as a chore, but for John Diggle, it was something else. It was a connection, of sorts. Yes, his guns were simply tools, but as one of his friends had once told him that books were like old friends and needed to be re-visited every once in awhile, just to catch up, it was the same for his weapons.  That meant spending the quality time necessary to make sure both he and his weapons made it home safely at the end of the night. It wasn’t so much ‘catching up’ as it was going over the game plan, so to speak. Which was why he took such a precise approach to cleaning and maintaining his guns.  

Usually it was peaceful in the foundry while he worked. Felicity would fiddle with her keyboard, the clicks becoming background noise along with the sounds of the rest of the team training.  Tonight, however, there was no blonde genius to keep him company, if only in the periphery. There was no Roy and Thea either, flirting through a workout or arguing about a boneheaded move he might have committed or an impulsive purchase she had made. There was only Oliver.

Oliver, who was creating and sharpening arrowheads at his crafting table on the other side of the foundry. It wasn’t an uncommon sight. What was uncommon was the fact that the man had been at it for a while before Diggle had arrived an hour ago.  And Oliver was still going, even though sometimes when Diggle looked up, the archer would be staring into space, the grinder still spinning but without an arrowhead held against it.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why that was happening. Things had been a bit askew since the alternate universe Oliver had left.  Alternate universes . . . something else in Diggle’s life that he would have been happy not knowing anything about. First, vigilantes, then metahumans and the multiverse after that . . . what was next? Aliens?

With a shake of his head, he set down the gun he had been cleaning and wiped his hands on a rag before getting up from his stool and moving towards the other occupant of the basement. It should have been a red flag just how close he got to Oliver before the other man even acknowledged him with a quick sideways glance. Not unlike the first time he had been in the lair, Diggle’s eyes were drawn to the arrowheads.  After all, they were sleek and beautiful in a deadly sort of way.

“I think the machine works better when it has something to sharpen, Oliver,” he said, leaning with the side of his hip pressed against the metal table, arms folding over his chest.

There was a soft snort on the archer’s part, then Oliver laid down the piece of metal he was supposed to be shaping and then turned off the machine.  Digg watched as he took off his safety goggles and gloves and moved back on the stool, feeling concerned as Oliver took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, rubbing his now uncovered hands over his face. 

“Something on your mind?” Diggle asked, gazing at his friend--at his brother. 

Oliver turned slowly on the stool to face him.  “How did you do it?” he asked.

“You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that, man,” Diggle offered.

“You and Lyla,” he answered. “A while back you mentioned you used to be married, but you’re not anymore.”

“Ah,” Diggle said knowingly, pulling another stool from below the crafting table and settling on it, elbows at the knees and hands dangling before him, relaxed but alert. “So what? You want to know about our short marriage? About the divorce that followed?”

He nodded, then shook his head.  “Yes--no. It’s a completely different situation, anyways,” Oliver said, almost to himself.

“You mean this ‘you and Felicity’ thing, right?” Diggle asked with a quirked eyebrow. “It’s different, that’s for sure.”

“Tommy and Thea think I want to shove Felicity into the spot Laurel left behind,” Oliver admitted.

Digg eyed Oliver.  “And that’s not what you’re doing?”

“No.” The reply was instant, followed by Oliver getting up from the stool and pacing. “I know you all think I’ve been pining for Laurel all this time.  It’s my fault because I let you, but it’s not true. Yes, for a few weeks after she left--maybe a month or two--I was still pining after her.  But once it had been a few months . . . it was different. It wasn’t heartbreak anymore, it was loss. And, no--I don’t want Felicity to fill in for her. But no matter how clear I try to make that point to everyone, it just doesn’t seem to get through,” he said, sighing heavily. 

“Then what do you want, Oliver?” Diggle asked with a shrug. “Explain it to me.”

Oliver laced his fingers behind his nape.  “Before he left, he told me to take care of her.” It wasn’t necessary for Oliver to spell out who the ‘he’ was--they both knew who he was talking about.  “He told me to try and be happy. And I thought, maybe, just maybe, it could be one and the same.”

“So, this is not about filling up the place Laurel left behind, it’s about filling the spot the other Oliver left behind for Felicity, and taking away Felicity’s sadness,” Diggle offered, folding his arms above his chest. 

“This whole thing isn’t about you. It’s about her, am I getting that right?” Diggle asked and at the nod of response from the other man he let out a long breath. “Oliver, I know you and I we don’t usually chat about our feelings, we’re not that kind of guys, but I’ll take a stab in the dark here and ask. Do you remember what I told you about love and how it wasn’t about saving or changing a person?”

Slowly, Oliver nodded. “I do.”

Taking a breath, Digg wiped a hand over his face before he began.  “Loving someone is also not about changing yourself to fit.  Now, God knows I love that girl as if she was my own sister, and I want nothing but happiness for both of you.  Still, have you considered that by trying to make her happy this way, it’s only going to hurt her, and you, in the end?” he asked. 

Oliver had a mulish, stubborn look on his face, but Digg pressed on.  “You might have the best of intentions here, man, trying to put her first and all that but on the long run?”  He shook his head. “Nothing good can come from you trying to take his place.” 

“Lyla and I, we got together during a period of our lives when nothing was guaranteed, even more so than any regular day in civilian life. And foolishly, we expected that would be our life all along. When we came back stateside, we realized we didn’t know how to be with each other without being soldiers. So, we decided to divorce. It wasn’t because we didn’t love each other. It was because being apart was what was best for us, as individuals.” 

“We had to grow, as separate people, before we tried again,” he continued, seeing how closely Oliver was listening.  “Now, I know that’s not the same thing here--however, the one thing I want you to think about is this:  I know you care about that girl, Oliver.  Anyone here would have to be blind to not see it.  But when you left with Sara and we had to get help from Barry, which brought us the other Oliver, I think you should see that as your time apart. You both grew, you just grew in different ways.  Ways that mean you might not be able to pick up from before.”

“Square peg trying to fit in a round hole.” Oliver muttered to himself, pressing his hands down on the table.  

Diggle nodded at this.

“You and I are the kind of guys that want to fix things.  That’s why I went into the armed forces and why you came back and started this whole thing.  With that said, just because you and the other Oliver looked exactly the same, it doesn’t mean you should be fulfilling his mission.  You can’t pick up from where he left off. It wasn’t fair of him to put that on your shoulders and it sure as hell isn’t fair for you to attempt it.  Not to you and not to Felicity,” Digg said, getting up from the stool. 

“Oliver, what you have with Felicity could be improved--there’s no denying that--but that girl’s heart was already taken and broken by an Oliver Queen.  Do you really want to put her through that a second time?” he asked and then shook his head. “C’mon.  You can think this over while we get some burgers.” 

Oliver smiled a little and even huffed out a small laugh.  “Big Belly?”

“You’re paying. I should be charging you therapist rates, as it is,” Digg said with a laugh.

Sometimes, peace was a mirage. Sometimes, disrupting that sort of fake peace in order to try and achieve the real deal was worth it. Just like taking care of a weapon you entrusted your life to day in and day out, sometimes leaving that peace and taking care of a friend was just as worth it. Even if it meant that he had to play therapist to a brooding vigilante.

XXX

If anyone asked, Felicity was taking a ‘mental health’ day--or a mental health night, as it was. With Slade defeated, the past few days had been a slow time for the team.  And after the exchange she’d had with Oliver two days ago, she had decided she was due some very well deserved ‘me’ time.  

It wasn’t because she was moping.  She wasn’t depressed--hell, she wasn’t even angry at Mister Oblivious. The truth of the matter was simple:  she was just done with people all together and wanted to be alone. It was processing time. She wanted as little human interaction as possible; the only exceptions were the delivery people bringing her food and Digg, who she texted every night she stayed away, just to let him know she hadn’t had a horrible accident while attempting to cook.

She had let Diggle know about her plans for a ‘stay-cation’ and had also told him the team shouldn’t call her.  The words ‘unless the world is coming to a literal end’ might have been part of her statement. He had assured her he would protect her time away. Felicity had added an amendment, asking him to make sure Tommy and Thea knew about her time off.  Those two were the most likely to try and ‘cheer’ her up by attempting to get her out of her townhome, which she wasn’t interested in doing at all. 

Peace and relative quiet, that was all she was interested in, so she could focus on the stuff she had overlooked while being on high alert thanks to Slade. Things like laundry and cleaning the mutant cobwebs in her apartment. There was a long list of everyday chores that had gotten pushed aside while the threat of imminent death was at the forefront.

With Rob Zombie’s Thunder Kiss 65 blasting from the one earbud she had settled in her ear--so quiet was a relative statement, but the loud music actually helped her focus and clear her head, something she had discovered during her goth phase--while keeping her other ear open for the  doorbell, she made quick work of mopping her hardwood floors as she waited for her dinner delivery.  Movement was important. As long as she had something to do, she would be fine.  

The knock on her front door surprised her: she was very well-known to pretty much every single restaurant that delivered in her area.  Pretty much every single delivery person opted for her doorbell instead of plain old knocking. 

“New delivery guy . . . gal . . . new delivery person, probably,” she muttered to herself, setting her mop aside at the end of the hall before moving towards the door, sticking to the one slice of dry floor she had left for that particular reason. “Just a minute!” she called out, wiping her hands on the back of her slightly baggy light blue lounge pants. 

She felt a little bad for the new delivery person. Her usuals knew what to expect when she came to the door, especially if she was on a cleaning spree, but this new person was about to be subjected to ‘rolled out of bed and picked up the first pieces of clean clothing I could find that I wouldn’t mind staining with cleaning products’ Felicity Smoak, in all her glory:  with a messy bun on the top of her head, a pink tank top over a black sports bra she had found in the deep recesses of her drawer, her favorite lounge pants which were on their last leg, and bare feet. 

Hoping she wouldn’t scare her delivery person away, because she had ordered from the best Chinese place in Starling City, Felicity looked through her peephole, recoiled for a second and then took another look. The double-take did nothing to change the view. It wasn’t a delivery person on the other side of the door.

Throwing the door open while she fiddled with the phone in her pocket, turning off the music blasting from the dangling earbud, finally achieving the silence needed for this interaction and then looped the cord of the earphones around her neck.

“Oliver? What are you doing here?” she asked with a frown. “How did you even know where here is? I didn’t think you knew where I lived. Is everyone okay? Is someone hurt? Did something happen?” 

The more she spoke, the faster her heart pounded with anxiety.  What if the team had come across something bad and had needed her help and she wasn’t there for that? Guilt and fear slammed into her chest, making her forehead knot with worry.

“No. Nothing like that,” Oliver replied immediately, holding out both hands in a placating manner. “Everyone is fine, I just . . . I wanted to talk to you, if you have a moment,” he admitted.

And if she hadn’t known any better she would have said that Oliver Queen, the Emerald Archer of Starling City, looked . . . sheepish. 

“I’m pretty sure Diggle mentioned I wasn’t supposed to be called unless the world was ending,” she said with a quirked eyebrow.

“I came to apologize,” he said.

“So the world  _ is  _ ending,” she quipped with a nod.  She stepped back from the door and motioned him to enter her townhome, a tight smile tugging on her lips. “Careful where you step, I just mopped the floors,” she called after him as he stepped further inside, before turning to close the door and coming face to face with her favorite delivery guy. 

When she turned around to face her unexpected visitor, a brown paper bag of goodness in her hand, Oliver was standing by her purple loveseat, on one of the few dry spots in her living room, looking like his typical male model self. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his dark wash jeans, his brown leather jacket was zipped all the way up to just below his chin, and his scuffed brown work boots which should have thumped and clumped on her floors but hadn’t, thanks to his ninja-like steps.

“I got Chinese. If this apology of yours is going to be worth anything, I might share my food so you’ll have enough energy to make it to the end,” she said, heading for her small kitchen. 

When she turned from her cupboards, after getting two plates and some silverware from the right drawer, she found him standing across from her, the kitchen island in between them, still looking just as sheepish as before. She hadn’t heard him move, but after a few years around him, she had gotten a bit more used to him moving as quiet as death.

Felicity made quick work of putting down their plates, while Oliver, without prompting, unpacked the food from the bag, making two very neat rows of cartons. 

“Water or wine?” she asked, standing with one hip jutted out.

“Water, please,” he replied.

With a nod, she went to the fridge. Yes, there was a fraction of a second where she debated if she should throw the water bottle at his fat head, but she decided against it.  He would probably catch it instead of letting it hit him in the face.  If she even was able to aim at his face.  For herself, she got a glass and the bottle of wine and set all items on the island, sitting on one of the stools before filling her glass. When he remained standing, she quirked one eyebrow at him.

“Oliver?” she prompted.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.”  His apology burst from him in that soft tone of voice he used just with her. This wasn’t the Oliver who had blindsided her with dizzying maybes two days ago.  This was the Oliver she was friends with, the Oliver she had missed for months.  He met her eyes, blue on blue, and she could see the sincerity there. “I’m sorry about the other day.  I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable.  That wasn’t my intention at all.”

“Kinda gathered that,” she offered, taking a sip of her wine.  “As much as I appreciate the apology, Oliver, I want more. I want answers.”

“Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he said with a sad smile, sitting down on a stool across from her. 

She took another sip and then put aside her glass, leaning forward on the island and holding his gaze.  “Just. . . why? It seemed so out of the blue! And for you, to come out with all that with no rhyme or reason? That really threw me for a loop. You are Mister ‘Everything has to be planned, I don’t like unknown variables, there’s back-up plans to back-up plans, just in case’. You’re always so . . . linear, if that makes any sense? Logical. Then all of the sudden, you drop this whole ‘we should have lunch’ ‘people should know we exist in each other’s world’ blah blah blah . . . ”

“I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hands. “I went about it all wrong. That wasn’t my intention, for it to be such a surprise.”

“Well, what was your intention? Because if you expected me to fall at your feet and go moony eyed, it was a major backfire,” she told him with a snort.

“To be honest, it was because of Oliver.” 

Felicity opened her mouth to speak, but Oliver held up his hand. “I’m not blaming him,” Oliver said calmly.  “I’m actually giving him a compliment.  While he was here, he managed to breach the distance I put between myself and the team.  Before he left, one of the things he showed me was that there really was no benefit, for anyone, if I kept away from you and the rest of the team. Sure, with Thea, it’s easier because she’s my sister and people expect us to be seen together.  But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t find a way to make you, and Diggle, and Roy, to be a part of my life. The Oliver Queen side,” he explained softly.  “It seemed he just slipped into my life so effortlessly, it made me wonder if maybe I had been looking at things the wrong way.”

“Oh, wow. An apology  _ and  _ admitting you were wrong? Are we sure the world  _ isn’t  _ ending?” she asked with a tilt of her head, before sighing and dropping the sarcasm for now.  “Continue,” she requested as she reached for the carton of chicken lo mein.

There was a soft airy sound, what she recognized as a chuckle, but she didn’t acknowledge it further than that.  Instead she focused on piling as much broccoli as she could scout from the container on top of her pile of chicken lo mein.

“You and me--from the very beginning, there’s been something special there, Felicity.”  Oliver’s admission made her pause in her digging, staring down into the carton.  “I thought it should be you. Aside from Thea and Diggle, you should be the first one I tried to be Oliver Queen with. The first to be seen with me because, Felicity--at the end of the day, I might have the respect of Roy, I might be a brother-in-arms to Diggle and a brother to Thea . . . but you? You’ve always thought I could be better and I wanted to try.” 

Oliver took a breath, looking down.  “Before he left--the other Oliver--he said I should try to be happy.  But how could I do that when I could see how sad you were?” 

“I’m not sad,” she lied, returning to her scooping, which had become much more forceful.

“No. You’re broken hearted,” he ventured, making her scooping motions pause and her eyes fly to his. “Just because you think I haven't noticed things about you doesn’t make it true, Felicity. I knew about your shellfish allergy, just like I knew where you lived because I make sure you get home safe when you leave every night from the foundry. I know you wanted to adopt a pet but decided against it because of the long hours at work and the night work. I know you always look sad on the anniversary of the day your dad left you and your mom. And that look is very similar to the one you’ve been sporting since the other Oliver left.” 

“Oh.”

What else was there to say? She hadn’t realized he had noticed so many things about her, not just about her but about her life. And she had thought he had been distant, when in fact he had been observing from the sidelines, because he thought it was safer, somehow.  Something that Oliver,  _ her  _ Oliver, had seemingly gotten him to stop thinking like that.

“So lunch and the maybes?” she asked slowly.

“I wanted to try and make you happy,” he told her softly.

And that was the same punch in the gut.  She had asked him why two days ago and again today, and the simple answer was almost more than she could handle. So much so that she felt the heat of tears threatening but she forced them away, sniffling delicately and taking another sip of her wine. 

“Felicity,” he said, gently uncurling her fingers from her wine glass, holding her hand softly with only one of his. “You were right. All I can offer you are maybes. Things that might come to pass, in the future, someday, at some point . . . And it comes as no surprise that I’m a selfish guy. I’d love the opportunity, to get there with you, to be the Oliver you are so sure I could be,” he said, his eyes twinkling like she had never seen before.  

“But you already have all that, or had,” he added before smiling sadly.  “Luckily for all of us, we know the guy who can help you have it again.”

She didn’t know if she could believe what she was hearing.  “W--what are you saying?”

“I don’t want to lose you, Felicity,” he admitted.  “But, if you stay here, I don’t think you will be happy and that is what I want most of all. You deserve to be happy. And you were happy with him.  I think you should call Barry, see if it’s possible to get you to the right Oliver.  Because if he’s anything like me--and I think he is--he needs you. Desperately.”

How she managed to let go of his hand, stand from the stool and round the table only to trap him in a hug in less than two seconds flat, Felicity had no idea.  But she did. Before her brain could process everything, she was hugging Oliver tightly, hiding her face against the leather collar of his jacket, and doing her best to try to hold the tears back.  This time, they were tears of joy mixed with hope and a tinge of fear.

“Call Barry,” Oliver whispered, kissing her hair just above her ear. “See if he can make the trip happen,” he said, crushing her to himself for a few seconds before releasing her gently and stepping back.  

I’ll take a rain check on the food,” he added before he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Let me know, either way.”  And with that, he walked towards the door and left.

It was a scramble after that, the food forgotten on her plate and her wine glass still half-full.  She didn’t care that the floors were still a bit wet, skidding as she rushed to the living room where her phone was charging.  Practically diving over the couch for it, Felicity unplugged it and hit the speed dial for Barry.

“Barry Allen’s phone. Go!”  Cisco’s voice came through after only two rings.

“Cisco, hey!” Felicity said immediately, happy to hear the upbeat voice of Star Labs’ resident engineering genius. “I need to talk to Barry.”

There was a long pause and Felicity was ready to ask Cisco if he was still there, when the young metahuman spoke, trying to sound cheerful.  “Oh, ho, ho! Felicity! Let me stop you right there and just say the horrible, honest truth. No can do,” he said with a cluck from his tongue. 

“I love you, girl--you’re my sister from another genius mister--but I just vibed this, this  _ whole  _ convo you want to have with our speedster friend about that thing you’re thinking of doing, which I’m not even going to mention because the consequences of that thing we’re not mentioning are so bad, I can’t let you talk to Barry about it. And when I say bad, I mean  _ bad _ .  We’re talking The Princess Bride without Inigo Montoya bad,” Cisco said, his forced cheer fading and regret filling his voice.   

“What you’re thinking of doing, Felicity?  You can’t.”

End, Chapter 13  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do believe this is the most super-sized chapter we’ve done in this fic--but there was so much goodness in this, we couldn’t leave anything on the cutting room floor. So sit back and enjoy seeing what happens now that Felicity has been told she can’t go to Business!Oliver’s universe . . .

 

“What do you mean, I can’t?” 

Felicity couldn’t believe what Cisco was saying.  She knew with his power, with his ability to see other universes and get precognitive visions, it was foolish to contradict him, but--but he couldn’t just tell her she couldn’t talk to Barry or she couldn’t ask for his help.  Not when she was ready to decide.  Or at least ready to figure out if she could decide.  

Cisco sighed.  “During the party, the one after we took out Slade?  I bumped into one of the Olivers and I had a vibe.  I saw the fabric of the universe fraying, the threads coming apart first in one universe and then another and another and another, until everything was destroyed.”  

Slowly, Felicity sank down onto the couch.  “But . . . how?”

“From having two Olivers in one universe.  The multiverse doesn’t like that.  So if you were thinking of asking Barry to bring the other universe’s Oliver here--”

“No--no, I was going to go to him,” she blurted out.  Then her mouth dropped open as she realized what she was saying.  

She wanted to go to the other universe.  Give up everything she had here, everyone she knew and loved . . . in order to take a chance with Oliver.  To see if there was really something between them, something worth such a huge risk.  

“That’s rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, Felicity,” Cisco said.  “Whether he comes here or you go there, there’s still two of the same person in one universe.  And since neither of us wants to rip the multiverse apart, I--”  

He took a deep breath and said, “I can’t let you do this.  So I’m not going to let you talk to Barry--I won’t let you convince Barry to do this. I can’t.”  

Her mind whirled, trying to come up with a solution.  Trying to keep Cisco on the phone.  

“Wait, Cisco--wait!  Don’t hang up, please.  There--there has to be some way to make this work.  I mean, I got Oliver to agree to let me go.  Do you have any idea how hard that was for him?  If I tell him it’s not going to work, he’s going to wreck the progress he’s made.  And--and it’s killing me to be here and not know what’s happening to--to my Oliver.  Please, Cisco--”  

Suddenly, she had an idea.  A brilliant idea.  An idea that could solve all their problems, especially since it was probably the craziest idea ever.

“What if we pulled a Parent Trap?”

“A Parent--you want to  _ switch places _ ?” Cisco asked, sounding incredulous.

“Would it work?  If I--if we found a way to convince the Felicity from Oliver’s universe to come here?” Felicity asked.  “Then I could go there?”  

Cisco blew out a breath.  “I don’t know . . . I mean, I guess so, but . . . this is way beyond theoretical, Felicity.”  

“Then let’s do the math and see if it will work,” she replied, feeling hope blossom inside her.  Because this felt  _ right _ .  The idea of having the same person from two universes take each other’s place in the other’s universe, it should equal a zero--it should have no impact on the universes.  

So all that needed to be done was Barry to take her to the other universe, find her other self, and convince her to leave behind everything she knew and go to another universe.  Simple!

_ Simple _ , Felicity told herself.  Because after all, in the last two years alone, she had begun working for a masked vigilante who also happened to be her boss, helped take out a man determined to blow up part of Starling City, sucked it up and became an EA in spite of her advanced degrees, played a part in defeating a man who wanted to destroy the man she . . . 

The man she used to think she was in love with.  Until she met the man who looked just like him, who had some things in common with him, but was her true love.  Because now that she had met both of them, one couldn’t take the place of the other.  The Oliver in this universe might only be able to offer her maybes, but that was more than she could give him.  Because her heart belonged to her Oliver, the one who was in the other universe.

And it was time for her to join him.

XXX

Felicity’s knees hit the ground and she leaned forward on her hands, breathing hard.  “Oh, wow, that was--am I on  _ fire _ ?!?”

“Little side effect,” Barry said, quickly patting her clothes.  “Remember what happened to Oliver when I brought him over?”

“Why doesn’t that happen to you?” Felicity asked, stumbling to her feet and patting her clothes down.

Barry gestured towards the insignia on his chest.  “My suit is designed to reduce friction, so no fire.”  

“You could have provided a suit for me,” Felicity grumbled, straightening up when she was satisfied all the flames were out.  

“Sorry,” Barry said sheepishly.  “Next time, I promise.”

She gave Barry a reassuring yet distracted smile.  “Let’s get to work.  According to Cisco’s math, we only have three days to find the other me before the universe will begin to be impacted.”  She paused and looked at Barry.  “You’re sure you’re up for this?  Because after all, you’ll have to take both of us back in three days . . .”  

He grinned at her.  “Don’t worry, Cisco and I are using these trips to experiment with some new toys.  Since this hopping universes thing is probably gonna be a more regular occurrence.  We might convince the other Felicity to change places with you, but she won’t ever be able to replace you.”

That made her spirits rise.  Knowing Barry had her back made this whole crazy idea feel less crazy.  Smiling back at him, Felicity nodded.  “Thanks, Barry.”  

Reaching into her bag, Felicity grabbed her tablet and pulled it out, pressing the power button.  Her smile fell when nothing happened.  She pressed it again, but there was still no sign of the tablet powering on.  

“Uh-oh.  Looks like my tablet isn’t working.  I don’t know whether the universe crossing did it, or if it’s something about this universe.  LIke how you can’t use a hair dryer in Europe without an adapter,” she said with a sigh.  “So we’ll have to go with plan B.”

“Plan B?” Barry asked.  

“We find a library and I get to work,” she said.  

Barry nodded and vanished in a flash of red light, only to immediately reappear.  “There’s a library a few blocks away.  You want to walk?”

Felicity smiled.  “You won’t mind going so slow?”  

“Not at all,” Barry replied with a grin.  “It’s good to slow down and smell the roses. Just give me a second.”

He was, once again, gone in a flash of red and yellow. It took him a bit more than a minute to reappear, but when he did she had to smile. Gone was the red suit of the Flash and before her stood Barry Allen, the CSI from Central City. From the Converse shoes on his feet, the faded jeans and the red plaid shirt over a gray undershirt, it was nothing that would draw attention to himself.  It was all so very normal, she couldn’t help but smile.

He even carried a messenger bag, very much like the one he usually had slung over his shoulder back on their Earth.

“Can’t really walk around in my other suit,” he offered as an explanation. “Don’t worry though, I paid for everything.”

“Of course you did.” 

With that, they began walking towards the library, their friendship solid enough they could walk in silence.  Looking around, Felicity mused on the changes between her Starling City and this one.  It seemed a bit . . . darker?  Even though it was the middle of the day, there was a grimness, a sadness, to this city.  The people they walked past on the sidewalks didn’t smile or make eye contact.  Everyone seemed lost in their own unhappy thoughts.  

Was this what came from having no one like the Arrow around?  

Had Oliver noticed the same thing when he returned?  Was that something he was doing right now?  He had learned so much in the week he had been with them . . . had he become inspired to be a hero?  

It had only been two weeks since Oliver had returned here.  Yet it felt like forever.  And as they walked to the library, Felicity felt the urge to find him.  To see him.  To make sure he was okay, to find out how he was adjusting to his return.  To ask him if he’d like the help of an IT girl to save his city.  

She glanced over at Barry, realizing he was looking at her at the same moment.  She managed a smile.  “It’s weird to be in a place that I know, but not.  This Starling City is pretty different.”  

“Yeah, it is.  Kinda makes you think about what makes it different.  What’s the history?  How did this Starling City get to be so . . . grim?”  Barry paused.  “If your Oliver is thinking about making this place better.”  

“I don’t know if he’s my Oliver,” Felicity said, feeling her cheeks go scarlet.  “I mean . . . he doesn’t even know I’m planning all this.  I’m taking a huge risk for a guy . . . oh my God, Barry.”  

Coming to a stop, right in the middle of the sidewalk, she stared at her friend.  “What am I doing?  This is like leaping off a cliff when you can’t even see the bottom.  And I’m making the Felicity from this universe jump, too--what if she won’t switch places?  What if she’s married with six kids?  What if Oliver doesn’t want me to be here?  What if I can’t find a job here?  I would be stuck here, homeless, friendless--I said I couldn’t live with Oliver’s maybes, but this--this is the biggest maybe of them all!”  

“Felicity, Felicity,” Barry said, grabbing her shoulders.  “Breathe.”  

Doing as he said, Felicity sucked in some air.  Barry searched her eyes.  “Better?”  At her nod, he smiled a little.  “Good.  Okay, I need you to listen to me.  If you’re reconsidering this, that’s okay.  We can turn around and go back to our universe and it’d be okay.  You know everyone back home would welcome you back with open arms.  Maybe you and Oliver would figure things out eventually.”  

He paused, clearly weighing his words before he went on.  “But, Felicity?  In just a week, what you had with this universe’s Oliver . . . it was something special.  And that was in just a week.  Imagine what would happen between you two in a month, or a year.  Or a lifetime.  And if you think he might not want you--well, I saw the way he looked at you at the party, that last night.  He wants you, Felicity.  So I think you owe it to yourself to see this through, as long as your other self isn’t married with six kids.  Which I don’t even think could be possible at your age.  Not that I’m sure on that, since I don’t know how old you are exactly, but I’m just guessing you couldn’t have six kids.”  

Giving her a nervous smile, Barry turned and took her hand, drawing it through the crook of his arm.  “C’mon.  The library awaits.  Let’s find this universe’s Felicity.”

XXX

When she was a little girl, Felicity had loved using the computers at the library. Sure, she could have built a better one if she had the money.  But living with a waitress mom, and with her dad long gone, money was for necessities only--and that didn't include computer parts. So, the library computers were as good as it got, for the longest time.

Now, older, wiser and more techy, Felicity was longing for her babies. The custom-built, state of the art, Frankenstein-like computers she had put together for the lair would have made her life so much easier. Not that there was anything wrong with the library computers, if she had been doing something like browsing the web for a research paper. That wasn’t the case though.  She was deep in the Dark Web and the lack of processing power and response time were driving her nuts.

It had taken her hours to get to where she was and all the hard work she had put into finding herself--her alternate self--could very well be for nothing if she didn’t manage to keep up.  That was solely dependent on the circuitry of the computer she was using. The Dark Web was her home in any universe, it seemed, but with a subpar computer she could only do so much. Which was why it had taken her so long to find the right ‘signature’. 

Every hacker was different, each one’s code unique in the way it was written and used. It was sort of like handwriting. It didn’t matter that everyone was taught the same--everyone usually ended up developing their own style. Finding the right code in a realm full of hackers was like finding a needle in a haystack.  Once she did, though--that was when the fun really began. 

It was the equivalent of an aerial dogfight. She was following the trail of a specific hacker through the Internet: closing in, observing and then, when necessary, blocking the access to where the hacker known as GFG wanted to go. It was almost uncanny to see her code being used by someone other than herself, yet it was so obvious. This GFG, very much like she had done in college, was all about trying to get into places she wasn’t supposed to be, just to see if she could do it.  It was clear from her tracks she had left behind.  Tracks that no one but Felicity would have been able to discern.

Only when Felicity had backed her into a proverbial corner of the deepest recesses of the Dark Web did she use ‘the code’.  All hackers knew about the code; it was hacking 101, a common courtesy that even the most ruthless of hackers kept in mind as their last resort.  Truce, warning, hello--it could be any of these things, in a kind of mutated aloha. In Felicity’s case, it was a request to meet in real life. Overwatch requested to meet GFG, also known as Ghost Fox Goddess. 

The ‘or else’ really went without saying.  And after Felicity’s display of her hacker muscles, the other hacker would have been a fool not to accept the invitation.

They had agreed to meet at a public place, for safety measures. It wouldn’t do to have the girl flee before they could actually come face to face and she could explain the situation. 

After their meeting was set up, Felicity did some more scouting. She needed to gather as much information as she could on her counterpart. Blackmail, always a last resort, was not something she was above using.

At seven that evening, Barry was sitting in a booth at Big Belly Burger, a booth chosen specifically for its vantage point of the door, while Felicity sat at the end of the counter with her back towards the door.  There was a lot of people around, which better served their purpose. The more people there were, the less likely the other hacker would feel threatened.

It had been decided that Barry would be the one Ghost Fox Goddess would think she was meeting.  With a 99.99% chance that Felicity shared the other woman’s face, it was critical to put her at ease . . . before they would yank the rug from under her feet.

Felicity had long since finished munching on some fries when an uncomfortable tingle went down her spine.  It was a creepy crawly feeling that arose the moment  _ she  _ walked through the door.  

Even though Felicity thought she was prepared, after her experience with two Olivers, it was shocking to see a near-perfect copy of herself.  Well, not nearly a perfect copy--with her double’s fashion, hair and makeup choices, Felicity dazedly thought that the serial killer hair Oliver had been sporting when he arrived from this universe wasn’t such a big deal anymore.   

Looking at the other Felicity was like a blast from the past.

Hunkering down at the counter, Felicity kept her gaze on the other woman out of the corner of her eye.  The other Felicity, the Ghost Fox Goddess, was dressed all in black, from the Doc Marten boots on her feet, to the cargo pants and the long sleeved shirt she wore. The only pops of color were the electric purple streaks in her black hair and the dark forest green jacket she wore. Even the messenger bag she carried was black.

The sight of her struck Felicity like a blow to the chest. She had to hand it to Barry: as the other woman made her way towards his booth, the speedster looked surprised at the other hacker’s appearance, but in a way that could have passed as him being shocked that she’d actually shown. Then again, when hackers used ‘the code’, the call almost never went unanswered.

With as much grace as a panther, the woman with the black hair slid into the booth, sitting down across from Barry and placing her bag down next to herself. 

As they began talking, Felicity took several minutes to watch their interactions, spending the time trying to figure out exactly how to approach this situation.  How to convince her other self to switch places.  What to say to make this happen.

For a moment she let her mind go back to her universe, to the moment where she had shared her decision  with Oliver and the rest of her team.  They hadn’t been surprised and everyone had supported her, but it had hurt all the same. John and Oliver had taken it the hardest.  Digg, her surrogate big brother, gave her the biggest hug he had ever shared with her, before making her promise she would be careful. Oliver, dressed in his Arrow gear, had granted her a small smile.  Then he had taken her shoulders in his hands, kissed her forehead, and whispered she deserved to be happy.

Shaking her head at the musings, Felicity decided the time was now. She hadn’t broken her team’s hearts only to chicken out.

Having already paid for her meal, she got up from her stool just in time to see her other self do the same from the booth, along with a flustered-looking Barry. She was far enough away that she couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obvious he was trying to explain something.  The  other woman wasn’t interested, however. Instead, she was throwing the strap of her bag over her shoulder and turning on her heel.

Before Felicity had even realized what she was thinking, before she made a conscious decision to make her feet move, she was already across the restaurant and standing in front of her double. It was a metaphorical slap in the face, to come face to face with someone who looked just like her. She now could almost understand Oliver’s choice to shoot an arrow when he walked into the lair and saw her with her Oliver.

The other woman, for her part, looked as startled as Felicity felt. Even under the heavy coat of pale makeup, her skin grew paler, the dark purple lips of her mouth opened and closed without a sound.  And her blue eyes, lined heavily in black, were as wide as saucers.  

“Sit back down. We need to talk,” Felicity said simply, nodding back towards the booth and hoping she sounded steady and sure.  It was all an act, though; her legs were unsteady beneath her and for a moment, she wished she had chosen shoewear of the flat variety.  Even though it felt like cheating on her beloved high heels, walking in four-inch heels behind your alternate universe counterpart was definitely unsettling!

“She doesn’t look too good,” Barry said, glancing worriedly from her replica to Felicity once they were sitting in the booth, with Barry and Felicity sharing a seat across from the woman with her face.  

That made her other self recover, it seemed.  “Shock will do that to you,” the goth Felicity snarked, shifting her gaze from Barry to Felicity. “What the  _ hell  _ is going on?” she asked through gritted teeth, a crinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

“Long story short? I’m you, from another universe,” Felicity explained without preamble. “I’m here because I need your help.”

“You’re--what? Hold on . . . another universe? So beanpole here wasn’t just yanking my chain?” 

“Hey!” Barry exclaimed with a frown.

Ignoring Barry’s interjection, Felicity went on.  “You’re me.  You also went to MIT--class of 2009--which means there’s a 95% chance you also took advanced physics as your elective, instead of engineering like everyone else, which means you are somewhat familiar with the theory of the multiverse. Professor Holden, in my universe, would not shut up about it,” Felicity said, leaning in despite the tension that grew with being so close to the other Felicity.  “Sometimes things are a bit different between universes, so if I got the professor wrong, I’m sorry.”

Goth Felicity blinked.  “No, you--you got it right.”

“Anyways, the theory is somewhat correct. There are many universes, all existing at the same time, all vibrating at different frequencies, which means . . . ”

“They aren’t aware of each other, just like different channels on a TV or radio can exist at once without overlapping,” the other Felicity finished.

“Exactly,” Felicity replied, relieved that she wasn’t going to have to convince the other woman that alternate universes were real.     

Her black-lined eyes narrowing, this universe’s Felicity spoke as she leaned forward, too.  “How the hell are you even here, then?” 

“That’d be my doing,” Barry offered helpfully, lifting his hand and smiling at the other woman before turning towards Felicity. “I  _ cannot  _ wait to tell the others that you had a Goth phase.”

“Really? That’s what you’re focusing on?” Felicity asked her friend with a frown before turning her attention once more to her counterpart. “Barry here can run fast . . . really fast.”

The other woman quirked an eyebrow.  “Run fast?”  She leaned back in the booth, draping her arms over the high back of the seat.  “Okay, I’m not close-minded enough to think the multiverse theory doesn’t have merit, especially with you sitting right there. Aside from the blonde hair--Mom would be so freaking proud about that, by the way--and the conformist clothes, you’re obviously me. No one else could have kept up with me in the Dark Web, either. But going from that to ‘he runs fast’ as your explanation for how you got here?”

She shook her head. “The amount of speed required to create a breach point between universes would be--”

“Barry can run  _ really  _ fast,” Felicity repeated, adding extra emphasis.  Beside her, Barry smiled wider at the dark-haired Felicity.  

“Mint chip?” he asked, looking at Felicity and then her darker replica. “Is that your favorite ice cream, too?”

“Uh--yes?”

Before anything else could be said, there was a whoosh of air, red and yellow lightning exploding all around the booth, even though there was no pain and no sound of thunder.  In the blink of an eye, Barry was sitting beside her again, and in each Felicity’s hand was an ice cream cone with that very same ice cream flavor as he had confirmed was both of their favorite.  The mint chocolate chip ice cream was a perfectly-shaped dome on top of each cone.

“I’m more of a rocky road guy, myself,” Barry said, taking a leisurely lick from his cone, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

“Holy shit.” 

The muttered curse from her goth self made Felicity press her lips together, in order to quell the smile that threatened to bloom.  She took a lick of her own ice cream--because why waste a cone of mint chip?  

The way this universe’s Felicity was looking at Barry was priceless, the shock rivalled only by the reactions John had when he first saw Barry move--reactions that Digg still had to this day whenever the speedster showed off.

“So, now that we’ve established Barry runs fast, let me tell you why I need your help,” Felicity said, before looking at the other woman pointedly. “You might want to start in on your ice cream.”

The trio ate their ice cream as Felicity explained the situation. She told how there were people in their universe who worked to save their cities using their talents, whether extraordinary thanks to a particle accelerator accident, years of training, or natural brainpower.  Her replica had a hard time wrapping her head around Barry’s accident, but she eventually accepted it.

She emphasized to her counterpart that even though Felicity didn’t have special powers, it didn’t mean she wasn’t pulling her own weight.  She was, for all intents and purposes, the eyes and ears of her own team. The guarding angel on their shoulder, making sure they come home safe. She was the guru of gathering information and sometimes, when it couldn’t be avoided, she even went out in the field.

She also told her all about Oliver, the Arrow, and how he was stranded on an island for five years, before he came back home and decided to right his father’s wrongs.

“Wait,” the dark haired woman finally said, having finished her ice cream. “Oliver Queen? As in Ollie Queen?  Playboy with serial killer hair, CEO of Queen Consolidated--that Oliver Queen?”

“Like she said, some things are different between universes,” Barry said, motioning towards one of the waitresses, silently asking for a refill on his basket of fries. 

“In our universe Oliver is a hero,” Felicity explained.

The other Felicity frowned.  “Well, shit. I guess sometimes there’s a lot of differences between two versions of the same person.  Kinda makes me feel bad for the guy here.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Barry said, once he had eaten two handful of fries from his renewed basket. “I kinda kidnapped the Oliver from this universe and took him to ours, thinking it was our Oliver from an earlier point in time. He got to play superhero while he was over there. It was pretty epic.”

“Okay . . .” this universe’s Felicity said, a frown crinkling the space between her eyebrows.  “I still don’t see why you’d need my help. You seem to be doing just fine, helping superheroes and all.” 

“While the Oliver from this universe was there--well . . . ” Felicity took a deep breath, staring deeply into the eyes of her replica. And what she saw there made her blurt out, “I fell in love with him, which is why I’m here now.”

This was very different from pleading her case with Team Flash, trying to persuade them to help her get to this universe.  For one thing, that feeling of creepy crawlies under her skin had intensified so badly, from being so close to her other self, Felicity had a hard time not scratching at her skin. She had even seen the goth version of herself rubbing at her forearms over her jacket sleeves, so she guessed she was feeling the same.  That was why she didn’t have the time to waste--she needed to know if they could get this Felicity to switch places with her.

“I still don’t get it.” 

“Oh!  So, you remember those movies from the eighties called Highlander? Not to mention that cool TV show in the nineties?” Barry asked, leaning back on the booth, finally done with eating. “It’s kinda like that, but without all the beheading.”

At her double’s blank expression, Felicity explained, “What he means is that there can be only one of us in a universe or else the whole multiverse collapses, or implodes--we’re not sure which.  I can be here for a short period of time, but if I decided to stay, you would have to go to my universe in my place. To keep things balanced.”

The silence that followed would have been uncomfortable, if not for the relief Felicity felt at having put everything out in the open. Yes, it was a crazy plan. Yes, she was at the mercy of her other self. Yes, it could all blow up on her face and yes, most definitely, that horrible tingling feeling was intensifying the longer she was near her other self.  But this was it.  Everything was pretty much out of her hands now and she was ready for whatever Gothlicity decided. 

“Let me get this straight. In order for you to stay here and give it a go with loverboy Queen, I’d have to go to the universe where you’re a super hacker, working for a superhero team?”

Felicity swallowed, feeling the hope grow in her chest.  Her counterpart definitely sounded intrigued . . . “With. I work with a superhero team but yes. Pretty much.”

“I don’t have to dye my hair and change the way I dress, do I?” the dark-haired Felicity asked with a quirked brow.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Felicity asked, feeling buoyant from the giddiness starting to surge through her veins.

The other woman tilted her head in contemplation, running the tip of her tongue over her lips as she studied Felicity. There was something shrewd and measuring in her gaze, but that was understandable. What Felicity was proposing was pretty insane--anyone would take a moment to consider just how crazy the idea was.

“I have something I need to take care of here first,” the current universe’s Felicity finally said. “You say you need my help? Fine. I’ll help, but only if you help me first,” she added. “I’ve been trying to figure something out--it has to do with my dad. You help me get that done and I’ll be glad to jump ship.”

Her chest grew tight at the mention of this Felicity’s father.  “Is your father’s name Noah Kuttler, too?”

“Yeah. I don’t know about yours, but mine is pretty far from being an outstanding citizen,” the Goth Felicity answered with a roll of her blue eyes. “I’m a lucky girl, I guess. First, my dad turns out to be both a genius and a big crook--he calls himself the Calculator, can you believe how dorky that is?--then my college boyfriend tries to steal millions from the U.S. Treasury Department using my code. Bad blood in my veins calls to other losers, I guess.”

She played with a strand of her purple hair.  “It’d be interesting to see what I could do for a superhero team,” she said, clearly attempting to sound casual--but Felicity could tell there was fearful thoughts rolling around inside her head.  “But first--there’s a puzzle I’ve been trying to unravel, but with only one of me, I couldn’t do it.  But now that you’re here . . . it evens things out.”  

“I hate mysteries--” Felicity began, only for her other self to join in and continue the statement.

“They need to be solved,” the brunette hacker finished with an almost predatory smile.  She held out her right hand. “You help me be a hero on this side and I’ll gladly take your chair in your universe. Deal?”

Felicity couldn’t have shaken her counterpart’s hand faster.  She did her best to ignore the annoying spark of ‘wrongness’ that shot up her arm when their skin touched.

Two hours later, Barry Allen, Felicity Smoak and Felicity Kuttler were camped out in an apartment close to the Glades--the same apartment Felicity herself had rented out, in her own universe, before the Undertaking. Aside from that surprise, she paid very little attention to anything in the apartment--although she was happy her counterpart hadn’t gone for goth decor.

The most important feature in the apartment to Felicity was the guest room, because it was where this universe’s Felicity kept her tech.   Felicity almost wept at the sight of the custom-built computers, the humming servers and the other components available to her itching fingers. Before Barry was settled on the couch, both hackers were already hard at work.

“Spartan, John Diggle. Speedy, Thea Queen. Arsenal, Roy Harper. The Arrow, Oliver Queen. God, that’s still so weird. Last thing I remember about that guy was him peeing in a cop car a few years ago,” Gothic Felicity said, reviewing the information Felicity had shared with her, all while her fingers flew over the keyboard. 

“That happened in my universe, too.  I don’t think he’ll ever live it down,” Felicity admitted, her eyes glued to the screen. “Also, there’s Tommy Merlyn and Charlie, his girlfriend. They help the team.”

“And you said that once I get over there, they’ll help me with Team Flash and . . . what was it? the Legends?” 

Felicity nodded as she scanned some code on her screen.  “Yup.  Everyone will be nice to you.    Oliver--my universe’s Oliver--he can be a bit prickly about newcomers, though,” she warned before glancing over and giving her dark-haired self a quick smile.  “Don’t let him intimidate you though.”

The Goth snorted, not even bothering to lift her gaze from the multiple screens before her.  “I have a notorious criminal for a father and a tough-as-nails cocktail waitress for a mother. There’s no way a guy with the last name ‘Queen’ is going to intimidate me,” she offered with a shake of her head.

The minutes ticked by, both women working at their respective stations, until Felicity gasped.

“Oh, frak.”

“What?” The other Felicity asked, rolling the chair she was seated in towards her. “What did you find?”

Barry joined them, standing behind them, but all of Felicity’s attention was focused on what she was seeing.  “This information is from Unidac Industries.”

“Uh, yeah,” her counterpart said, leaning in to see the screen a bit better. “My dad wanted me to hack into it, using the code I wrote back in college.  He was looking for some plans or schematics or something.  I don’t know why he wanted to dabble in corporate espionage when he’s usually more interested in bankrupting companies and stealing all their money.” 

Felicity’s blood ran cold as she realized what that meant.  As she realized just what Noah Kuttler had been looking for in Unidac Industries’ servers.  “Double frak.”

XXX

“We need a little help here!” The Arrow’s voice came loud and clear through the comms, giving no sign if he was as overwhelmed as Tommy Merlyn was.

This was  _ not  _ how he had expected his night to go!

Roy and Diggle had already left, rushing to the dock where Arrow and Speedy’s trackers had pinged for the last time before disappearing off the map. Tommy hadn’t even been the team’s tech support for a full week now, but it seemed his lack of experience might cost them dearly. 

He could have said no--he knew things were going to get tough without Felicity, so he didn’t feel right leaving the others in a lurch.  Cisco could only help once in awhile.  And besides, the guy was no Felicity Smoak. So Tommy had volunteered to man the comms, but he hadn’t been prepared for this.

Normal B&Es, bank robberies and the like: he could handle that.  Admittedly with a lot of effort, but he could do the job.  This was completely different, though.  Having both Oliver and Thea trapped in a maze of shipping containers, with no explosive arrows to create a way out? Yeah, that was  _ far  _ from Tommy’s area of expertise. 

With the sound of crunching metal coming clear as day through the comms, Tommy feared he had not only failed his city, but his friends as well.

While Barry was away, a new metahuman had descended on Starling City.  This one, Tommy and Cisco had agreed, was one of the most twisted adversaries either team had ever faced. Cisco called him the Game Maker.  Before he had become a metahuman, the man now known as the Game Maker had been Paul Sullivan.  A psychopath who took great pleasure in toying with his victims, the poor people Sullivan tortured were usually too mentally scarred to provide any kind of statement.  

As a metahuman, he had taken his games to the next level, choosing targets in peak physical condition for the intricate maze like arenas he dropped them in.  Then, as they struggled to find the exit, Sullivan would play upon their fears, acting as a veritable boogeyman.  That was why the Arrow and Speedy were currently trapped somewhere at the Starling City docks, unable to get free.  

Even though his fingers were moving as fast as they could over the keyboard, nothing Tommy tried was working.  But he kept trying, because there was no way he was going to stop.  Not when the people in danger were his sister and the closest thing he had to a brother.  

“Arsenal and Spartan are five minutes out!” he barked into the comm.

“We don’t have five minutes!” Thea’s voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, a strong gust of wind whipped through the lair, red and yellow lightning announcing the arrival of the Flash. Tommy only had time to turn his head before a smoldering green jacket was tossed his way, hitting him right in the face.  While he tried to pull it away, someone pulled his chair back from the computers and he heard a voice he never thought he would ever hear again speak.  

“Out of the way, pretty boy!”

Stumbling to his feet and tossing aside the jacket, Tommy watched in awe as a dark-haired woman took over the computers, leaning over the keyboard and typing at a rate he had only ever seen one person achieve.  The hair was black with purple streaks, the clothes were dark, but before anything else, Tommy was a man.  And he would have recognized that delectable derriere anywhere. 

“I need a comm unit!” the woman who looked like Felicity said, glancing his way, her black-lined blue eyes free of glasses and snapping with anger. “Now!”

“Here we go!” Barry offered, rushing to her and handing over a comm unit.  She promptly put it in her ear, while the speedster did his best to pat down the few spots on her skinny jeans that were still smoking.

“I have satellite imagery,” she said into the microphone, fingers flying over the keys. “It looks like Spartan and Arsenal are still three minutes out. From the sounds of it, I take it you’re pinned between two containers like you’re in the garbage disposal in Star Wars--let me take care of that for you.” 

The more she talked, the more Tommy realized that firstly, this was insane.  Secondly, this was exactly what they needed. 

“Felicity?!” The Arrow’s voice rang through the comms, filled with surprise.

“Not exactly, but right now I’m the best you’ve got, Mr. Greenjeans,” the woman replied immediately and almost absentmindedly while working the computers. “Spartan, Arsenal, I’m taking care of Arrow and Speedy. I’m rerouting you so you can intercept our bad guy.”   

It took a only a minute and then it was over. The horrible crunching of metal from the containers being crushed went silent and Oliver, sounding relieved yet wary, said “We’re clear.”  

Even with two good legs, Tommy would have stumbled as he dropped into his rolling chair.  Because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.   

“Come home,” the brunette said, a sentiment that had only been used before by the blonde who used to sit in front of those computers.  Although the inflection was different, the meaning behind it was still the same.

Turning his gaze towards Barry, Tommy opened his mouth to speak but found no words.

“Cisco called,” the speedster explained with a small shrug. “He finally managed to get the inter-universe communication device to work. He told us what was going on, so we got here as fast as we could.” 

“And . . . she’s . . . ?” Tommy asked, glancing towards the woman who had swiveled around to face them.

“ _ She _ has a name,” the woman said, folding her arms over her chest and granting Tommy a smirk. 

It was similar yet different. He could tell she had the same petite frame he had hugged many times, the same blue eyes that twinkled with delight and amusement, and obviously the same genius brain residing in her noggin.

And yet . . . this wasn’t Felicity. 

“Nice to meet you, Merlyn,” she said, stepping towards him.  “I’m Felicity Kuttler, formerly Ghost Fox Goddess--but my name here is Overwatch, yes?  Hacker. MIT Class of 09. New Team Arrow tech expert, via special delivery from the alternate universe.”

When Tommy glanced at Barry again, the man was grinning from ear to ear.

“Is she great or what?!”

End, Chapter 14

  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! We really wanted to have the next chapter ready for y'all, since this is the chapter we've been looking forward to _the whole fic_. But because both Mel_Sanfo and I are at Heroes  & Villains Fanfest this weekend, we just ran out of time. 
> 
> HOWEVER. So many people wanted to see Arrow!Oliver and Goth!Felicity interact, and we loved that idea, so we had written a scene between them to start the chapter. Which would have made Chapter 15 a monster. So we've taken that scene and are posting it now as an interlude, to tide y'all over until we have the 'real' Chapter 15 done. 
> 
> We hope you enjoy this and we'll have more soon!

It wasn’t unusual for the foundry to be heavy with tension.  As far as Roy Harper was concerned, however, this was far worse than any other time. Oliver had been gloomy and grumpy ever since Blondie had decided to jump universes, to try to give it a go with the other Oliver.  But now the man was pissed. Hell, Roy was sure that if he cracked an egg on Oliver’s forehead, it would have fried--he was  _ that _ mad.

The whole room was a rainbow of reactions, really.  Oliver was angry: surprise, surprise there. Diggle wore his usual ‘I’m reserving judgement’ face. Thea was amused, which Roy thought was part of the reason Oliver was so angry. Tommy was in shock; he hadn’t stopped looking shocked since the team had returned.

And then there was Barry, who had happily done a ‘food run’ and covered three of the foundry’s tables with different types of food, from Chinese to cheeseburgers.  Between bites of food, he recharged from his multiverse traveling but encouraged everyone else to eat, too, after what they had experienced--and to get through the explanations.

“In recap,” Barry summed up, “so that the multiverse doesn’t implode, or blow up, Felicity here had to come over in place of your former Felicity.”

“That,” Oliver said, pointing at the goth woman, “is not Felicity!”

The dark Felicity looked quite unaffected by all the growling.  She was sitting at one of the tables, skillfully eating some chow mein with chopsticks, swinging her legs back and forth like a kid listening to their parents bicker. 

It made Roy like her immediately. 

She hadn’t said much but clearly was listening to all that was being said--and kept rolling her eyes.  It was like she didn’t care that her arrival had blown everyone’s mind.  But that just meant things were about to get interesting.

Very interesting.

“Uh, yes. Yes, I am.  Felicity Kuttler, that’s me--I said that pretty much the moment you all walked in the door,” she said, sticking the chopsticks in her take-out box. “You know, you really should pay closer attention when someone introduces themselves to you. Trust me, I know who I am,” she added with a Cheshire Cat smile on her dark lips.

“She is,” Barry offered with a few nods. “And, just so you know, the fries are getting cold and the shakes warm, so you guys should probably dig in.” 

Of course, Thea was the one who went for the food without missing a beat, earning herself a glare from her big brother.

“What?” The sprite Roy called his girlfriend asked, shrugging her slender shoulders as she grabbed one of the shakes and started rummaging through the Big Belly Burger bags. “I just, literally, almost got flattened between two shipping containers. I’ve earned myself some serious calories, Ollie.”

The frown on Oliver’s face was so comical, even Diggle’s lips turned up for a moment before he seemed to think better of it by crossing his arms over his chest and clearing his face of all expression. Roy moved towards his girl, snatching one of her fries and dodging out of the way when she tried to smack his hand. He parked it by the opposite side of the table and grabbed another of the styrofoam cups.

“So, what? You left everything behind and came over? Just like that?” Roy asked.

“It was easier for me than it was for the other Felicity,” she answered. “Me and my mom, we don’t really get along, so nothing holding me there. And I wanted to get as far away from my dad as I could, considering a little nugget of information about him your Felicity helped me unearth. So, yeah, switching universes seemed like the right move for me. And your Felicity--as mad as the Jolly Green Giant over there seems whenever I mention her--she didn’t really want to leave you guys hanging.”  Felicity shrugged and started digging her chopsticks in the take-out box again.  “When your doppelganger from another universe tells you she works with a bunch of superheroes, ones who are going to need a technical genius on their side, and you have a shot at doing it?  Yeah, the choice gets made real quick.”

“You are  _ not  _ part of the team!”  Oliver said immediately, sounding a bit panicky and freaked out.

“Ollie--”

“No, Thea,” the archer in green said, holding up his hand. “We don’t know who she is--even with having the same skills as Felicity, that doesn’t mean she’ll fit on the team.”

“Whoa, she was not lying.  You really are thick headed,” the goth Felicity said, setting the food aside and hopping to her feet. “Listen. I didn’t say I was part of your precious team.  What I said was ‘I had a shot at doing it’.”

“You don’t,” Oliver growled.  

“Oh?”  She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.  

Oliver rested his hands on his hips, drawing up to his full height.  “You don’t sound like you want to be part of this ‘precious team’ so why bother?”

“Oh, of course I don't have a shot,” she said, rolling her eyes yet again and disregarding all personal safety by approaching the man dressed in green. 

“Because I obviously can't handle the work. It's not like I came in here and fixed your little ‘dying squashed like a bug’ problem in less than two minutes, right?” she asked, eyes blazing.  “Remind me again where you’d be if Beanpole over there hadn’t brought me here?” she said and then snapped her fingers immediately. “That's right. You’d be a green pancake in the middle of a shipping yard, with your sister as a side dish on the whole Queen breakfast sampler.” 

“Guys, come on,” Barry muttered, getting to his feet.

“Stay out of it, Beanpole,” she said, barely glancing in Barry’s direction and making Roy wish he had a bowl of popcorn. 

Because even though this woman was obviously Felicity, this was something the original Felicity rarely did: get in Oliver’s face and stand up to him.  Yeah, Blondie would use her loud voice occasionally, but this new Felicity?  She was something else.

“What exactly is your problem with me, huh? Am I too straight-forward for your liking?” she asked. “Because I have a lot to say about this whole scenario and I’ve been here less than an hour.”

“I know my arrival was sudden,” she continued.  “I will give you that. But are you even thinking things through? Choosing to shut me down just because I’m not  _ her _ ?  That’s kind of a dumb thing to do.  Maybe first do a little ‘pros and cons’ list about the abilities I could bring to the table regarding this team? Maybe--and call me crazy for saying this--you should ask the others? See what they think or if they’d like some help?” she said, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him. “No?” she asked with a shake of her head. 

Oliver furrowed his brow, clearly thinking this over, even as he still looked pretty sulky.  Roy thought he was having problems processing when faced with Hurricane Felicity.  Hell, Roy was having problems with it.

“Oh no, no. Instead you put someone who has no idea how to  _ really _ help you out of a jam, in charge of the comms and computers. And you would rather stick to that, out of sheer stubbornness, than try someone different--who is also, surprisingly enough, similar to who you had before,” she stated, continuing at the same rapid-fire pace. 

“Merlyn over there was almost having a heart attack by the time Barry and I arrived, since he didn’t know how to help you out! But no. You won't even hear it, will you?” she snorted.  “Is that how things are done here? All hail the master of the foundry, patron of bad decisions and green leather? God forbid you listen to reason and, oh, I don't know, logic, even if the obvious choice is staring you right in the face. And she looks killer in black and other dark colors.” 

Digg must have decided it was time to attempt diffusing the situation.  “Maybe we should take a step back.”  

The sassy Goth ignored Digg, her eyes still fixed on Oliver.  “You actually have the chance of getting someone on your team that will do as well as your former tech guru,” Felicity said with a sardonic smirk.  “You just can't get your head out of that tight ass of yours long enough to see it.”

“Excuse me?!” Oliver growled menacingly.

A lesser person would have shrunk at that tone of voice from the Starling City Emerald Archer, but this new Felicity stood her ground.  Boy, she deserved a medal for that, Roy thought--even if she wasn’t exactly trying to make it easy on everyone.   Even Diggle was rubbing his face with his hand, realizing that it would take more than a gentle prodding for the two of them to go to their corners.  Roy exchanged glances with Thea and then turned back to watch the petite goth and the Arrow bicker. 

“Guys!” Barry shouted, making both Felicity and Oliver turn to look at him. “How about we calm down a bit here?” he said, turning his attention towards the green archer. “Oliver, she's not the enemy here.”

“Forget it, Beanpole. I made a mistake,” Felicity said, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Getting in the way? I don't disagree,” Oliver snapped out cruelly.

“No, signing up for this gig with you, even provisionally,” she said, turning away from the man in green.  She walked over to the chair that held her somewhat scorched jacket and pulled it on. “You wanna play superhero without the best tech support available to you? Have at it, just don't get anyone in this room killed because you’re a stubborn ass.” 

With any further ado, she stomped towards the stairs in her heavy boots.  She climbed up to the door and let it close behind her with a bang.

The silence in the room was deafening until Tommy seemed to come out of his daze long enough to speak.

“I like her.”

“What?” The bewilderment on Oliver’s face was at least a vast improvement from the ‘angry face’ he had been sporting before.

“Oh, come on, Ollie. It’s not like what she said wasn’t true,” Thea offered, setting down the empty bag of fries. “Everyone in this room knows you’re being stubborn. She was just smart enough to catch on immediately.”

“You can’t be serious,” the archer in green snorted, unzipping his jacket.  “How can we trust her?  We don’t know anything about her.  Just because she looks like Felicity doesn’t mean she is Felicity.”

Roy shrugged his shoulders.  “We already had the other Oliver around and he worked out okay.  I know it’s kind of freaky that she’s Felicity-but-not-Felicity, and we all miss Blondie, but she did jump in and fix things without being asked.”

“Not to mention that’s what Felicity wanted,” Barry added. “I mean, I know it’s not the same.  But when the two of them were together, one of the things our Felicity made clear to her counterpart was that she would like her to help you.”

“Wait,” Diggle said. “This was Felicity’s idea?”

“Well, yeah,” Barry said. “She knew you guys would need someone to help you, like she helped you--and who better than herself?”

“Felicity trusts her . . . but I don’t.  Not yet.  Because she’s not Felicity,” Oliver said.

“Nobody is saying she is, man,” Diggle ventured.

“And it’s not like it was with the other Oliver, either,” Barry added. “You wouldn’t have to train her. She went to the same university as Felicity, holds the same degrees and has the same background in hacking, if not more.”

“That’s not the point,” Oliver said uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck and taking a deep breath. 

“We all know what the point is, Ollie,” Thea said, approaching her brother and settling one of her hands on his shoulder.  “Felicity made her choice, big brother. Is it really a good idea to turn down the help she set up for us, just because we miss her like crazy?”

And just like that, his girlfriend had appeased the beast. Thea had a way with Oliver that never ceased to amaze Roy. WIth just a few words, she could make him see the light in a way no one else could. Not even their Felicity.  And Thea was right and everyone knew it from the way Oliver deflated.

“I’m gonna go catch up with Felicity,” Barry said before leaving in a flash of yellow lightning.

“Just think about it,” Thea told Oliver before moving towards the back of the foundry in order to get changed into her regular clothes.

Roy followed her, leaving Diggle, Oliver and Tommy to talk in low voices. He knew, without listening, how the conversation would go. The two men who Oliver considered his best friends would make him see the light and Oliver would realize he had to give this new Felicity a chance, instead of being a stubborn ass.  

Just like all the other times.        
  



	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re not dead! Both Mel_Sanfo and I had a lot going on this spring, so this story had to go on the backburner. But we’re so close to the end, we didn’t want to leave it uncompleted. Especially when we left y’all on a pretty wicked cliffhanger. So enjoy seeing what happens next . . .
> 
> **PLEASE NOTE RATINGS CHANGE**

 

With a small smile, Oliver settled down on the couch beside Thea.  “Thanks for having dinner with me.”  

She rolled her eyes and slapped him on the shoulder.  “What?  Of course I wanted to have dinner with you--it’s your birthday!  And I gotta say, this is a lot better than those huge ragers Tommy always threw for your birthday.”  

“Yeah, ever since he married Laurel, he’s supposedly grown out of his rager phase.”  

Oliver could feel his sister’s eyes on him as he sipped his Scotch.  It wasn’t surprising; he hadn’t been able to help falling into an occasional silence during dinner tonight. There was a lot on his mind as he worked through everything he had learned in the past two weeks.  And his sister must think it was strange there was no evidence his parents had remembered his birthday.  They weren’t here for dinner, they hadn’t sent him flowers or a present.    

Turning his head, he met Thea’s gaze.  “Out with it, Speedy.”  

“Ollie,” Thea sighed, reaching out to take his hand.  “I’m worried about you.  You’ve been acting differently for the last few weeks, and at first, I just thought everything I’ve been saying to you had finally sunk in.  Painting this place, breaking up with Helena . . . But now it seems like more.”  

“It is more,” Oliver admitted, shifting on the couch.  “And it’s going to sound crazy, but . . . but I just need you to listen, okay?”

Thea’s hazel-green eyes narrowed, but she nodded slowly.  “Okay.”  

Only pausing to take a deep breath, Oliver dived into the story.  About Barry taking him to another universe, one filled with heroes who were saving their cities.  About the people who helped those heroes.  About defeating an evil madman and how that had made him feel.  About returning to his proper place and beginning to investigate his world, to see how similar it was to the other universe.  

Which naturally led to the hardest part: the results of his investigation.

“Mom and Dad . . . they’re involved in something bad. And they’re involved up to their necks.  It’s them, and the Merlyns, the Chens, the Bowens--the first families of Starling City,” Oliver said, his disgust leaking into his voice.  “They want to wipe out the Glades and start over.  And they don’t care who dies. Or how many.”

“Oh my God, Ollie . . .” Thea breathed out.  “You--you’re sure?” 

Nodding, Oliver threw back the last of his Scotch and set the glass on the coffee table.  “I’m sure.  And I’m going to stop them.”  

“How?  I mean, you said the police are in their pockets, which I already knew, thanks to all our  DUIs getting swept under the carpet,” Thea asked.  Then she went pale.  “Ollie--you’re not going to--”

“Stop them myself?  That seems like the only option--and it’s the right option, Thea,” Oliver said quietly.  “They can’t do this.  Thousands of people could die if they succeed, and I think I’m the only one who can prevent that from happening.  I can do this,” he said, looking at his sister.  

Thea had so much moxie and spunk, Oliver could count on one hand the number of times he had seen her look legitimately scared.  And she had never looked as scared as she did right now.  “What are you going to do?” she asked in a tiny voice.  

Oliver looked at her.  “Do you really want to know?  It might be better if you don’t.”  

“There’s no way I’m going to let you get involved in something like this without having someone you can talk to,” Thea said firmly, lifting her chin.  “You might think you’re all alone, but you’re not the only one who cares about this city.”

The fierceness of her words made Oliver smile.  He rose to his feet and went over to his office.  When he came back with a bow, it made Thea’s mouth drop open.

“You’re gonna go around and shoot arrows into people?  Like the other you?”

“It works for him,” Oliver said simply with a shrug of his shoulders.  “I’ll start by scaring the people involved into backing down.  The ones who won’t stop . . .”

He let his words trail off, not wanting to fully spell things out for Thea.  Not when he was still uncertain about just how far he could go.  Would he be willing to injure someone like Rebecca Merlyn?  Or one of his parents?  Oliver didn’t know.

“This is crazy,” Thea said, running a hand through her hair.  “I mean, I’m not surprised, which is maybe the craziest part of this--but, wait, no.  I think my brother wanting to be a modern-day Robin Hood is definitely the craziest part.”  

“Maybe in crazy times, the only option is to be the craziest person around,” Oliver said, putting his bow down and sitting beside her again.  “Are you going to be okay?”  

Thea looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face.  Even though he was shaking in his shoes over her answer, Oliver met her gaze, doing everything he could to reassure her that he had fully considered this plan. That he could do this. That he wasn’t wrong about their parents.

“Yeah,” Thea said slowly.  “Eventually, I’ll be okay.  But I’m gonna need you to really tell me everything--not the Cliff’s Notes version you just gave me.”  

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but Thea shot him a look.  “This Felicity girl--I know you didn’t tell me everything about her.”  

His cheeks flushed.  “There’s nothing more to tell.  She’s back in her universe, where she needs to be.”  

Rolling her eyes, Thea got up and picked up the decanter of Scotch, refilling his tumbler.  “Did you check to see if there’s a Felicity here?  What if she’s supposed to help you, too?”

“I did go looking for her,” he said, lifting his glass and taking a healthy sip.  “I couldn’t find any sign of a Felicity Smoak.  So I guess she doesn’t exist here.”  Looking up at Thea, he did his best to smile.  “It makes sense--she’s unique.  Besides, the Felicity from this world--she wouldn’t be the right Felicity.”

“Oh, brother,” Thea said.  She was clearly bracing herself for one of those loving yet lacerating pep talks of hers, but the doorbell rang before she could get started.  

“Were you expecting someone?” Thea asked, lifting an eyebrow.  “Get rid of them quickly so I can tell you how wrongheaded you’re being.”

Oliver gave her an annoyed look as he stood up.  “You know, I am the older one around here,” he reminded her as he walked towards the door.  

“But I’m the  _ smart _ one,” she called out as Oliver opened the door.  He was too shocked by who was in front of him to respond to her, though. That brought Thea down the hallway to join him.   “Who is it, Ollie?”  

“Felicity,” he said, too breathless to say anything but her name.

The smart, strong, beautiful woman he thought he would never see again smiled weakly and gave them a spastic little wave.  “Hi.”

XXX

This elevator ride was both too short and too long.  It seemed like it had taken forever to get to this point, after she had managed to hack the list of approved visitors for Oliver’s penthouse condo and add herself to the list.  Now that she had gotten past the doorman and security guard, now that she was in the elevator on her way to see Oliver, to tell him that ‘surprise!  I love you and I want to be with you’, her heart was pounding and her palms were clammy. The fact she hadn’t hyperventilated yet was quite the achievement.

What if he didn’t want her?  What if being back in his universe made him realize he had only a passing fancy for her?  What if--oh, God, what if he already had a girlfriend here?  

She had turned her whole life upside down for a man.  The very thing her mother had always warned her against doing.  “Don’t let yourself get lost in some man, because if he leaves, you might not ever find yourself again,” Donna Smoak had said.  

But Felicity had never felt like this.  And she had never felt such a connection with someone, a sense of rightness, like when she was with Oliver.  Not even with the Oliver from her universe.  Yes, she cared so much about that Oliver--she wanted him to be happy, she admired him and respected him.  For years, she had hoped he would realize she could be more than his IT girl.  Yet he had never really seen her like that.  Could never see her in that way.  Even though she loved him for the fact he had offered to try, had wanted to see if their relationship could be more . . . 

As she had told him, she deserved more than maybes.  Her original Oliver could only give her that--while the other Oliver, the one only a few feet away now?  He could give her everything.  As nerve wracking as that possibility was, the whole thing was a mystery--the cat in the box as it were, unless she overcame the inertia of her limbs and did something.

That was what helped her reach out and press the button for the doorbell.  She was nervous about what the outcomes might be--there was no question about that--but deep down, she knew this was the right choice.  

_ He  _ was the right choice.  Because even if she got lost in him, he would get lost in her, too.  Felicity felt that in her bones. 

Felicity could hear a voice as someone approached the door, a voice she knew, a voice that made her stomach twist with nerves as her heart soared.  And then the door was opening, and she could practically feel the heart eyes she was giving him, but she didn’t care.  Because it was Oliver.  Her Oliver.

“Who is it, Ollie?” came a voice--a voice belonging to Thea, Felicity saw as Oliver’s sister walked down the hall to join them. Yet Oliver barely seemed to notice his sister.

“Felicity,” he breathed out, staring at her.  

“Hi,” she said, waving at them nonsensically and then dropping her hand quickly.  

Oliver blinked and wet his lips with his tongue, making her heart pound.  “What--how--?”

“If it’s online, I can find it,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound like she was bragging.  More like reminding him of how talented she was, how she would be able to stand on her own two feet in this world after she had adjusted.  Trying to show him she could be his partner, if that was what he wanted.

“Did you just say ‘Felicity’, Ollie?  Like--like  _ Felicity  _ Felicity?” Thea asked from behind her brother, only to push him to the side to look at the object of her question.

The object who was about to have a heart attack.  There was no way her heart could handle all this stress and extra work.  Because Oliver had told his sister about her?! Showing up at his door like this was supposed to be the surprise, a feat that was hard to top, but now it seemed the shock factor award went to the Queen siblings. Since it would seem Oliver had told Thea about his multiverse adventures.

This world’s Thea looked a lot like the Thea Felicity knew, other than a few details.  Her hair was longer, her frame was a bit curvier, and there was a peace in her eyes.  But she had the same innate understanding of Oliver, Felicity could tell.  

“Ollie?” Thea repeated, resting her hand on his arm.  That seemed to wake up Oliver, because he blinked again, his body tensing a little, before he nodded.

“Yes.  This is . . . This is Felicity.”  

If he kept saying her name like that, she might burst into tears.  So soft and gentle, like her name was a priceless jewel he wanted to handle with extreme care and caution.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave, then,” Thea said brightly.  “We’ll talk more in the future, I’m sure, Felicity, but it’s nice to meet you.  Really nice.”  

Felicity felt her face go red, while Thea turned to Oliver and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek.  “Happy birthday, big brother.  Call me when you get a chance.”  

Picking up a slouchy handbag from a table in the front hall, Thea grinned at both of them and swept out of the apartment, leaving Felicity and Oliver standing only an arm’s length apart.  

So close, yet . . . 

“Felicity?” Oliver asked, gazing at her.  

“Happy birthday?” she said, at a loss for anything else to say. Because she was still standing in the doorway and Oliver wasn’t giving her any hints about whether she was welcome to come inside. 

“Um, thank you,” he said before shaking his head. “What are you doing here?  _ How _ are you here?”

Trying her best to smile, she replied, “It’s a long story.  One that would be easier to tell if I was--oh, I don’t know, inside? Quite possibly sitting down?” she quipped, hoping she sounded more like herself and not like she was scared out of her mind.

Oliver looked sheepish.  “Oh, sorry.  Please, come in.”  He stepped back, giving her room to walk inside, but not so much that she didn’t have to brush against him as she moved past.  The contact made her whole body tingle--not like it did when she was in proximity to her other self, but in a much more pleasant way.

Walking down the hallway, she came out in a living room that looked transitional. Not like the design style, but like it was on its way from being one kind of room to another. The walls were painted a dark green, which made the room feel cozy--until one saw the very modern, very stiff-looking sofa and chairs. There were no throw pillows, no knickknacks or pictures, nothing that gave the room any personality. 

Other than the bow laying on the table.

“Take a seat,” Oliver said, following her into the room.  “Would you like something to drink?”  

“Oh, um, I’m fine, thanks,” Felicity said, sinking down onto the couch and discovering it was as uncomfortable as it looked.  She fidgeted with her purse before tucking it between herself and the arm of the sofa, then looked up at Oliver and smiled.  “Sit, Oliver,” she said, patting the cushion beside her.

He looked at her for a long moment, then slowly walked over and joined her on the sofa. “Is Barry responsible for you being here?”

“Yes,” she said, preparing herself to tell this story.  “After you left, I . . . well, I was having a hard time with it.  Especially since the other Oliver was acting odd.  He asked me out to lunch.”

It might be a less-important part of the story, but Felicity couldn’t deny she was curious to see this Oliver’s reaction to the idea of his other self asking her out.  And her hunch paid off, because he definitely didn’t like that.  A frown creased his face, his forehead wrinkling, and he edged away from her a little.  

She couldn’t help smiling.  Because he had nothing to be jealous about--she was here, after all.  Here, for him.  

“Oh?”  Oliver was clearly attempting to sound nonchalant, but not succeeding at all.  

“Yeah.  He wanted me to be happy, so he said it seemed silly for no one outside the team to know about our friendship,” Felicity said.  “It was very sweet of him.  To want to step up and change things, to realize he wasn’t happy with the way his life is and decide it was time to shake things up.”  

Even if he had gone about it in a way that was bound to blow up in his face eventually--but that was Oliver’s way. He never did things the easy way. 

“I told him that . . . that he deserved someone better than Laurel,” her Oliver said slowly. “And I asked him to take care of you.”  He swallowed, not looking at her. “Because like I told you--I want you to be happy.”

It was all she could do not to start crying. Because the two Olivers were different, in so many ways. But when it came to the people they cared about? Oh, they were identical. Because they loved with their whole hearts. For someone he cared about, each Oliver was willing to crawl over broken glass, give up everything for her . . . Felicity had seen her original Oliver do that for Thea, for Laurel, and yes, for herself. But he wasn’t ready to love her the way she needed, the way she wanted. And honestly, she thought he would have better success with the other Felicity--with the sharp-talking, wounded-but-hiding-it, dark-haired Felicity. Because that Oliver, with his sensitive, caring heart--he could get through to her. They could both grow, together.

And that was good, because this Oliver, the one sitting beside her? He was her perfect match. She knew that. And she was ready to tell him just how certain she was of it.  

Felicity pushed up her glasses and straightened up, turning to look at Oliver. She reached out and took his hands in hers, an instant sense of rightness filling her heart. Noticing how he shifted, how he seemed flustered and uncertain, made her want to wrap her arms around him--which would, hopefully, come to pass just as soon as she got the words out. The words she knew he deserved to hear. 

“After you left . . .” she hesitated, grimacing. “I really don’t want to say that it destroyed me, because it sounds really, really bad, and like something you should apologize for, but even with my big brain, I can’t think of a better way to put it,” Felicity babbled, softly. “Let’s just say it was a big mess. I wasn’t able to change your mind about staying there, not that I got to ask--and, anyways, you couldn’t stay, even if you’d wanted to. I know that now.  Just like I couldn’t come here and stay, unless my other self went to my original universe.”

Oliver blinked.  “What? But I--I looked for you here--”

“Let me guess: you searched for Felicity Smoak, right?” At Oliver’s nod, she squeezed his hands. “Her name is Felicity Kuttler here. After my dad left, my mom took back her maiden name and renamed me that. That’s why you couldn’t find her--there wasn’t a Felicity Smoak here.” 

“Because there’s only one Felicity Smoak,” Oliver replied, gazing at her. 

“The now proven multiverse theory would disagree,” she sniffed with a smile, not sure how she was going to get through what she needed to say without shedding a tear or two.  “But, I’m willing to concede that maybe the universes realized they had messed up and made it right--they did find a way for us to meet, after all,” she said, taking a deep breath.

_ Here goes everything _ , her brain supplied helpfully.

“I know you’ve had your doubts, but--but you should know you have done so much more than you realize, Oliver. I don’t regret a single moment of my life, because it lead me to this moment--and you shouldn’t regret anything, either.”

“Felicity,” Oliver whispered, moving closer to her.  

Unable to look away from him, she spoke as firmly as she could. “Knowing you has changed my life. You’ve opened up my heart in a way I didn’t even know was possible.”  She paused, letting those words sink in, before she finally said what she had been waiting so long to tell him. “I love you.”

Oliver didn’t even blink.  He kept staring at her, his eyes so blue and hopeful and filled with a contentment that made her heart swell in her chest.  He looked at her in a way she had always wanted to see.  Because a happy, content, in-love Oliver Queen?  It was something to behold. 

His hands pulled away from hers as he lifted them up towards her face.  He opened his mouth and then closed it, before giving her a smile that lit up his whole face. “I love you,” he said softly, his fingers settling feather-light on her glasses. He drew them off slowly, making her vision go fuzzy around the edges. But Oliver was still perfectly clear, perfectly distinct, with how close he was. And when he leaned in to kiss her, he was all she could see.  

XXX

Was he dreaming? Oliver wasn’t sure. Ever since Felicity had arrived, looking even more beautiful than he remembered, everything had taken on a hazy quality. Like the next thing he knew, Thea would come in with a plant and tell him to blow out the candles on his birthday cake, or his trainer would appear and start singing opera. 

He had pushed aside the strangeness and focused on reality: that Felicity was here, sitting on his couch, talking to him. Telling him about how his other self had attempted to ask her out--which made his stomach twist into knots, even though he had told the Arrow to do just that. But somehow, some way--Felicity hadn’t wanted that. She wanted  _ him _ .  The Oliver Queen who wasn’t nearly as heroic, nearly as capable, as the man who looked like him.

Was it truly possible he had done everything she was saying he had done? That he had changed her life? 

“I love you.”  

Her words cut through the haze and made everything else fall away. He couldn’t look away from her, taking in her beauty and intelligence, soaking in everything that made her Felicity. Everything that made her perfect to him. 

And he was so happy to have her here, to have her telling him what he had been wanting to hear, that it took him a moment to respond. But his response easily came to his lips. 

“I love you,” he said, smiling at her widely. And then, since he knew he didn’t have to wait any longer, he leaned in, his hands coming up and gently lifting off her glasses before he kissed her. 

When their lips met, it was like a key in a lock or a puzzle getting its final piece or some other seemingly overblown metaphor.  But Oliver just couldn’t get past how  _ right  _ this felt.  Her mouth against his was soft and warm and so open, he wanted to fall into her and never leave. 

After what felt like only a split second, Felicity pulled away. He wanted to protest and wrap his arms around her so she couldn’t move away, but when he saw her slide her jacket off, his heart started pounding. 

Slowly, not looking away from her, he slid his shirt up and over his head. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him and he held his breath, wondering if she was looking at him and found him lacking as compared to the other Oliver. 

Her hands settled feather-light on his shoulders, her fingers gently brushing over his skin, and he knew she wasn’t thinking about his doppelganger. There was no room for  _ him _ in this moment.

As he rose to his feet, his hands went to her waist, slithering under her top and stroking over her warm skin.  Oliver felt his breath coming faster and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths before he started lifting her top. As soon as he had gotten the fabric past her face, and she was free of it, Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him--deeply, hungrily, like she couldn’t get enough of him.  Of this.

That made two of them. 

He kissed her back, needing her closer.  His hands went below her hips, and using all of his hard-won strength, he pulled one of her legs up around his hip as he carried her towards his bedroom.

Oliver had never been so thankful for the minimalist style chosen by the designer he hired to decorate his place. The sleek, polished, barely-anything-there motif worked to his advantage in this perfect moment. There were no paintings or mirrors to knock askew on the hallway wall when he pinned her there, attacking her lips ferociously and molding his body to hers, trying to quench the aching need he had for her closeness. The table at the end of the hall was the perfect height to support her so he could taste the delicate skin of her neck and thrust into the cradle of her legs, which he still held about his hips.

But reaching his room, he felt a twinge of hesitation in the midst of all the anticipation.  That was why when he set her on her feet, he kept kissing her as he worked the button on her jeans. With his fingers buried in her silky hair, he kept kissing her as he wondered if he was up for this. For giving her the best night of her life.  

He couldn’t remember the last time that he had brought a woman to his apartment. He was sure that his bed had seen no other body but his, which did much to calm his fears. He had left ‘Ollie Queen’ far behind. There would be no ghosts, from his past or other universes, intruding now.

As if she sensed his feelings, Felicity broke the kiss and gently pushed him back from her. He opened his mouth, ready to ask if she was feeling hesitant, too, when she began to unbutton his trousers. Oliver sucked in a breath at the added space, feeling his already-hard cock jump with relief. And other things, too.

Although if he thought he was hard, it was nothing compared to how he felt when Felicity toed off her shoes and slid her jeans down, revealing dark blue panties that matched her bra. The way her breasts swayed and her hips shimmied as she undressed threatened what remained of his resolve. 

Oliver was pretty sure he broke some kind of record when it came to getting undressed, kicking off his shoes quickly and then pushing his trousers and boxer briefs down. Her warm skin called to him in a way he’d never felt before and he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to hold back. Instead, he wrapped her in his arms and didn’t let go.

Felicity beamed at him and used her hands on his shoulders to move him back to the bed, until he sprawled back on the bed and Felicity straddled him. With his back to the mattress and Felicity perched on his hips, Oliver felt like he was in a dream--especially after he pulled away her bra and used his hands to cradle what the undergarment had been holding. His hands gladly explored her breasts, discovering the softness and warmth of her skin. At the same moment, Felicity ran her hands over his pecs, mirroring his moves and making the flames inside him flare even higher.

For the first time in his life Oliver wanted candles, rose petals, soft music; he wanted the perfect ambiance for the perfect woman, whose collarbone he was now littering with kisses. Anything short of that wouldn’t do. As she ran her hands over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling his head back so she could kiss him, he made a mental note with what remained of his brain. As soon as it could be done, he would take Felicity somewhere and give her the perfect romantic getaway.

Hell, he’d give her anything her heart wanted, just as long as he could have her in return.

There was a sense of urgency to Felicity’s touch and kisses, an urgency he returned. Her hips rocking lazily, her cloth-covered center rubbing against his cock, and her teeth scraping at his earlobe: it was a type of torture he desperately wanted and needed to stop all at once. Soon, words wouldn’t work any more, so he had to get them out now while he could.

“Felicity . . . ” Saying her name felt like a prayer. “Protection?” he asked, not wanting to stop touching her, but willing to sacrifice a moment for their safety.

“I’m clean and on the shot,” she muttered against his ear, moving her plush lips down to his neck and placing a kiss there, easing back from him enough to look at him as he sat up.

The trust he saw in her eyes disarmed him and he couldn’t help himself from kissing her  greedily, nipping at her fuchsia-tinted lips.

“Clean,” Oliver managed to say in between kisses. “And fuck, I need you.”

Unable to wait any longer, he braced one hand on the mattress while he held her firmly with his other arm. He lifted them both, turning their bodies and gently placing Felicity on the bed, not so crazed with his passion for her to not treat her as she deserved. He hovered over her, smiling at her reaction.

XXX

Holy  _ fuck _ , how had he done that?!?

Her brain was on the verge of melting down with everything she was feeling, from how amazing Oliver felt to how he touched her skin like she was precious and perfect. But the move he had just done--that was going to break her. 

Especially with that cocky, warm, loving smile on his face. 

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him down and arching up against him, cursing softly at the panties that kept her separated from him. She shoved at them, wiggling, and Oliver groaned. 

“Felicity,” he grunted, his hips thrusting hard against her before he attacked her collarbone again. 

“Gotta--get--these--gone,” she stuttered, torn between touching him and getting rid of her underwear. 

Oliver’s hand drifted down her side, spreading fire in its wake, and then his fingers wrapped around her underwear and yanked hard, ripping them completely away. 

Oh, enough playing around. He needed to be inside her now. 

Felicity ran her hand down his torso and wrapped her hand around his cock, which jumped and trembled in her fingers and gave her a feeling of power. His head fell against her neck and she felt his tongue and lips working at her skin, leaving a love bite as she brought just the head of his cock into her. She panted, feeling him breaching and stretching her, and Oliver read her mind and slowly thrust his full length into her. 

Feeling her wet warmth invaded by his hard cock made her sigh from the pleasure, while Oliver groaned loudly, making her twitch and spread her legs wider, planting her feet on the bed.

They set the rhythm and pace together, his body meeting hers in a series of delicious undulations. It was slow, almost lazy, with shared breaths and soft kisses. Their eyes, blue on blue, linked without letting go. She could see so much awe, so much love and a hint of surprise in his eyes, reflecting what she felt in her own heart. And she knew he was seeing the same in her eyes. 

She had convinced herself this would never happen: having a man look at her with so much love in his eyes. Definitely not these eyes, when he had let himself leave her universe with barely a word about his own feelings--without even any kind of a move on her!  

Yet here they were: together, in the most exquisite and forever kind of way.

As the pleasure built, so did the pace, until he was thrusting fast and hard into her. Felicity braced herself, using her feet to push back against him as she chased her pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she fleetingly wondered if her nails were breaking his skin. It made her feel an animalistic pride that he might bear the marks of their joining together, just like her neck and collarbone bore the signs of his attentions to her.  

The knot in her center was growing tighter and tighter, so tight, and she just needed to come. She felt sparks of pleasure, a wave starting to approach its crest as one of his hands moved between them. She could feel his fingers touching her at the same time as his cock plunged into her, and she gasped as he started rubbing her clit. 

His fingers teased her mercilessly, his short nails scraping against the most sensitive place on her body, making her lose any sense of rhythm in her movements as she tried to get what she needed. Loud, high-pitched noises broke free of her lips, bouncing off the walls of his bedroom, joining with Oliver’s grunts and moans. 

Her release was sudden and surprising, like a burst of light in the middle of the darkest night. Her walls clamped around him, tighter than she had ever felt before. Felicity dug her nails even deeper into his shoulders and threw her head back while she moaned, a low sound of satisfaction from deep in her throat. It was so good, so much better than any feeling ever, that she wanted to stay in this moment of tense bliss forever, feeling Oliver vibrate deep inside her. 

But she wanted him to feel this overwhelming, life-changing euphoria, too. So Felicity clenched as best she could around him, making Oliver’s thrusts become jerky and ill-timed, before his pleasure took over. He growled her name between clenched teeth, plunging inside her one last time as his climax filled her up.

Oliver slumped down on top of her, solid and warm and  _ real _ . It made it a bit harder for her to catch her breath, but she didn’t want him to move. She didn’t want him to go anywhere. 

She felt him stir against her and she started to lift her arms to wrap around him, to keep him there, until she realized that he wasn’t moving.

He was  _ laughing _ , his shoulders shaking with each little chuckle. 

Dropping her arms and shifting so she was propped up on her elbows, Felicity looked at Oliver, who had lifted himself up from her slightly. She shot him a quizzical look. “That is most definitely not the reaction I was hoping for . . . at all,” she said, trying for mock sternness even as she felt the flutterings of insecurity. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said, using one of his hands to brush a strand of her hair away from her eyes, before tucking it behind her ear with infinite tenderness. “It’s just . . . I’m happy.” 

His words made something inside her, a secret place filled with her deepest hopes, flare to life. Because she could see the happiness shining out of his eyes, in the lines of his smile, in the way he held her tightly. 

As much as Oliver wanted her to be happy, she wanted him to be happy. And she had done it: she had put that look on his face. Which is what made her realize that this feeling filling her? 

It was happiness. 

End, Chapter 15


End file.
